


The Bullies, the Misfits, and the Vigilantes

by VenomQuill



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Another AU mashup!, Camp Cipher, Gen, Gravity Hop, I'M NOT DEAD, Mysteries Galore, Relativity Falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Stanford and Stanley Pines go out to Camp Twin Pines, a summer camp run by their Grauntie Mabel. By first glance, this peppy camp run by their even peppier great aunt is yet another summer camp out in the sticks. But soon, they learn that this camp might not be as peppy and bubbly as it seems... out in the woods so far from civilization that none may hear the screams of the trapped... where the Beast With Just One Eye stalks its young prey like a fierce cougar shadowing a gentle fawn....or Camp Cipher is just another camp for ten-to-thirteen-year-olds run by the sister of a long-gone scientist to waste time before school starts again!





	1. Humble Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my dA for potential art and mini-scenes! https://www.deviantart.com/venomquill

“Oh, man! This’s gonna be great! Away from home, out in the sticks!”

A rather full bus rushed down the empty, winding, wooded road. It was easy to imagine the road going on endlessly, constantly driving, constantly moving, constantly full of children all ranging in age from ten to thirteen, all ranging from bored to content, terrified to jovial.

“With Grauntie Mabel!”

Near the front, two boys of identical stature sat. At one point in time, their different taste in fashion would set them apart. But now they both wore identical white-and-blue shirts, shorts, blue bow ties, shoes, and triangle symbols on their shirts declaring their allegiance. Now, the only things that set the boys apart were the left one’s blocky glasses and the right one’s missing tooth.

The right one went on, his deep brown eyes never leaving the forest, “And I bet they’ll let us have the same Cabin. Maybe we can get to divide up the chores. Conquer our enemies!”

The left one with the glasses spoke, “Mrs. Pines wouldn’t allow that.”

The right one’s grin left immediately. He groaned and flopped back, hitting his head on the back of the seat without flinching. “Uuuuugh! Ford!”

“I’m serious!” Stanford chastised. “Ma and Pa were both very adamant about us not getting special treatment. At least for as long as we’re campers, we need to call her what everyone else calls her. For all intents and purposes, she is just our camp leader.”

Stanley rolled his eyes and smirked. “I betcha I can get out of trouble.”

“Don’t!” Stanford warned.

“I get away with literally anything if Grauntie Mabel is around, dude. This summer’s no different.”

“That’s not a bet and it’s not like she’s _that_ relaxed with rule-breaking. Don’t you remember the last time she caught you trying to shoplift a candy bar?”

“Challenge accepted.” Stanley smirked and crossed his hands behind his head.

Stanford sighed and shook his head. “This is going to be a very long summer.”

 

 _“This is going to be a very long summer.”_ The words rang in Stanford’s head as they left the bus and walked down the trail to the gate of the camp. “CAMP TWIN PINES” scrawled in blue, thick letters on a whiteboard. A blue pine tree flanked either side of the phrase. Stanford gripped his science-and-monster decorated suitcase. New kids, lots of new kids. There was no salt in the wind and no distant hissing of the ocean and no grumbling of traffic. Everything was so _open._ There was grass under his feet!

The kids–oh God the number of children–were herded from the bus through the gates and to the front yard of the rickety cabin before them like cattle. A rather large, rather old pig slept on the front porch. Stanley elbowed his brother. “Waddles!” he whispered. “You think he remembers me?”

“He likes you, I’d be intensely surprised if he didn’t remember you.”

Just then, the door to the main cabin opened. A woman in her sixties tromped out of the cabin with a bounce in her step. She wore a white shirt with the blue triangle design and well taken care of pants.

She stopped just in front of the group of children flanked by their teen counselors. The woman smiled and raised her voice, “Hello, everyone and welcome to Camp Twin Pines! My name is Mabel Pines! We’re going to be in charge of every one of you for the next few weeks,” the woman announced. “We’ll be giving you the day to settle into your new rooms and into your new routines. Remember: life isn’t a race, and neither is Camp Twin Pines! We’ll have our competitions, but we should still remember that we’re all in this together.

 “One more thing before we send you off to your rooms: I am here to help anyone who needs it. But remember: If any of you think that you might get special treatment because of who your family is, you wouldn’t be right! Everyone’s one big happy family here and we don’t play favorites in this family. Now! I will call you by last name and then first and tell you your cabin. You will split the beds amongst yourselves but please: take care. We have someone kind enough to help with repairs, but if you have two working hands and a brain in your head, you’ll help fix anything you break. Now. Ladies first.”

Stanford sat down, looking around at his new surroundings. Dimly, he kept tabs on what his great aunt was saying. But ‘P’ was normally farther down the list, even farther if she was sending the girls off first and then the boys. “…McGucket, Fiddleford,” Grauntie Mabel stated, loud and clear. “You will be in Cabin Three. Northwest, Preston: you are in Cabin Three. Pines, Stanford and Stanley: You are in Cabin Three.”

Stanley helped Stanford to his feet and they got to moving to the last cabin. Since Cabin Three was the last cabin, no one else was waiting. So, Mrs. Pines watched them go to their respective cabins.

The cabin was small, but not too dense. One bunk bed was on either side of the cabin with a dresser on each end of the bed. At one end of the cabin was a closet with a door next to it. On the other side of the cabin was a larger, single bed. Two kids were already there: one boy as big as the Stan twins with expertly done hair, clothes, and polished shoes, and another boy just a few inches taller with long, gravity-defying blonde hair, round glasses, and threadbare, recently repaired clothes. The two of them, backpacks in hand, hadn’t even shut the door all the way before the Stan twins made their entrance.

“Hey, dudes!” Stanley called, throwing his bag onto the bottom bunk on the right. “Cool if I take this one?”

“Actually,” the first one stated, “ _I_ was going to take that bed.”

“You’re standing next to that one. Besides, Ford and I have a bunk bed so we’re used to sleeping in them. Therefore, we should probably get the first pick.”

The first one huffed, “Yeah, right. Look, I’m technically older than you guys. You’re, what, twelve? I’m thirteen, so I have first pick.”

“We’ll be thirteen this month,” Stanley stated. “Therefore, your argument is invalid.”

“Stanley,” Stanford piped up. “How about we just take the one on the left?”

“Your brother agrees with me!”

“C’mon, Ford!” Stanley groaned. “You’re not letting this guy win!”

“One: he’s our room-mate. Two: this is the first day and I know Mrs. Pines is having a bet on whether you’ll get in a fight today. Three: I like the left side. The window’s on the left side.” Indeed, the only window in the cabin was on the left side of the cabin.

Stanley rolled his eyes and took his bag off the bed. “Yeah, fine. Hey, what’s your name?”

“My name?” The second boy, who’d melted into the shadows and hadn’t said a word by this point, jolted as if shocked. “Ah’m Fiddleford. It’s nice to meet ya, Stanley.”

“Hey, cool! Yeah, I have a feeling we’re going to be cool roomies. How old are you, anyway?”

The first kid, who’d set out a bedspread of an overly intricate coat-of-arms, stated, “Thirteen.”

“Yeah, Ah’m thirteen.”

“Called it.”

Stanford, who’d climbed onto the top bunk on the right side, taped up a few alien and monster posters. “Then I’m guessing you’re Preston Northwest.”

“Heard of me, right?”

“No, I heard Mrs. Pines call your name. Since he’s Fiddleford McGucket, that means you’re Preston Northwest.” Stanford looked over the top of his bed. “Right?”

Preston stared at him for a bit before opening the dresser at the head of his bed. “Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, peasants, wherever you came from. You have a distinct Eastern accent, so I’m saying New Jersey. You have a Southern accent, so I’d say somewhere Midwest, lower than that? Not Texan. Your clothes say pity-clearance, so I’m guessing you’re family with the staff?”

Fiddleford, who was on the top bunk of his bed, nodded. “It ain’t pity-clearance. My grandmother works here. Ah’m from Tennessee. Where’re you from?”

“Here. I’m Preston Northwest, Prince of Gravity Falls,” Preston boasted. “Richest people in Oregon, one of the most prestigious names in the United States, perhaps even the world.”

“That’s great,” Stanley said. “What does your family do for a living? Swindle poor people?”

“No! I will have you know I am the great-great-grandson of the town’s founder, Nathaniel Northwest.”

“So _that’s_ why you do your hair!” Stanley laughed. “Here I was thinking your mom just dressed you up nice so people’d like you.”

Fiddleford prompted, “How do ya know so much about us?”

“It’s my _job_ to know,” Preston replied. “I can read people easily. He’s the stubborn, hot-headed type, and he’s the quiet mediator-type. I’m guessing you're pretty sheepish?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, Ah guess. Where’d ya learn ta read people like that?”

“My moms and my tutors,” Preston answered smoothly. “Only the really wealthy people get such education, you know.”

The door opened, then. A rather large red-headed teen with a beard walked in, his possessions held in a backpack slung over his shoulder. Though he wasn’t an adult, he held an aura that commanded respect. As he set his bag down on the bed at the end, he stated, “Hey. My name’s Dan. I’ll be your counselor for the summer.”

“Hey, Dan!” Stanley grinned. “I’m Stan. This is my bro, Ford.”

“Ah’m Fiddleford,” their soon-to-be-best-friend piped up.

“ _I’m_ Preston Northwest,” Preston introduced himself. “Though, you probably know me. You’re a lumberjack kid, aren’t you?”

“Yep! Wendy’s my mom,” Dan agreed. “Yeah, you’re Preston. I remember you. Hey, how’s that pet fox doing?”

“Hunter is alive and well,” Preston answered. “He’s being taken care of by me, so of course he’s doing fabulously.”

Then, a yell rang out, “DINNER! MAIN AREA!” Many other voices started taking up the call as counselors roamed from cabin to cabin

Stanley perked up. “Of _finally!_ I thought I was gonna starve!”

“You won’t starve,” Dan assured him, taking the lead out of the cabin.

Stanley hopped past him. “So, Dinner’s ready this time every day?”

“At about five-thirty to six,” the teen replied. “Mabel will go around alerting everyone at about five-thirty-ish for the first few days. Then you’re on your own. The same goes for breakfast, but not for lunch. Since everyone’s out and about for lunchtime anyway. What’s that look for?”

“You can call her Mabel?” asked Stanford.

“Don’t let the website fool you; everyone calls her Mabel. Hey, a piece of advice: Everyone calls her Mabel, but call her Mrs. Pines when you’re supposed to be formal. We have to have a strong leadership here in Camp Cipher because even the slightest bit of slack means the entire place can go into disarray!”

Stanley scoffed, “That’s kinda exaggerated, isn’t it? …wait, Camp Cipher?”

“Nope! Wait, you guys never heard the legends?”

Stanford perked up. “What legends?”

“Ooh! You’re gonna have to be here for the campfire tonight, then. The first night, Mabel herself tells the story of the Beast with Just One Eye!” The twins looked at each other. _Maybe this wasn’t going to be a long summer after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Let's introduce half the main cast all in one go, right? Haha So, if you've ever seen me before, you'd probably know that I'm not one to write one AU at a time. Also, do you notice the "Gravity Hop" on there? ;) I made it myself! I have 2 AU's to my name, now!


	2. Rough Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have just gotten settled in and whispers about the first campfire stories have begun! How long will it take for one of them to break the rules?

Dinner was served from a large table by the back porch of the main cabin and spread out amongst a large cluster of tables nearby. The boy’s cabins and the girl’s cabins were on either side of the space with the dinner tables being near the north. A rather large crafting tent and a shed of supplies flanked the dinner tables. In the center of the backyard next to a tall totem pole was a large fire pit bristling with firewood and tinder.

Dan gestured around the place as he led Stanley, Stanford, Fiddleford, and Preston. “This is the main camp. Out front are more activities and there’s some more stuff by the lake. But, unless you’re with the group, don’t leave the main camp before dawn or after dusk. Trust me, you don’t want to go out there, anyway. Mosquitos are murder!”

They ended up in a line for dinner. A rotund woman with soft, dark eyes prepared plates and passed them on to the people in line. When she saw Stanley, Stanford, and Dan, she smiled. “ _Hola, chicos!_ ”

“ _Hola, señorita!_ ” Stanley greeted back, holding out his hands to take the food from her. “I’m Stanley Pines. This is my bro, Stanford.”

“I am Maria Ramirez. It is nice to meet you both.”

“Ramirez?” Stanford prompted and then perked up. “Oh! You’re Soos’ granddaughter, right?”

“ _Sí, soy yo._ You are Mrs. Pines’ great-nephews. It is nice to finally meet you.” Maria gave Stanford his dinner and waved at them.

Stanford waved back as they left. “Thank you, Maria! Nice to meet you, too!”

Their counselor left to sit by the rest of the teens. Grauntie Mabel sat at the head of that table. Four other people–two women of their age, one man a few years older, and an eighteen-year-old boy–sat by them. The twins immediately recognized Soos as the only man there. Although Stanford started to gravitate toward that table–as there were a few spaces left–Stanley took him by the arm and walked in the opposite direction.

“C’mon, dude!” Stanley exclaimed as they walked. “We need to sit with other kids. Adults are _boring!”_

Stanford pouted. “They’re not and I don’t know how many opportunities we’ll have to talk with Mrs. Pines before we have to go back home.”

“I’ll just ask Mom and Dad to let us stay longer. They’ll agree,” Stanley scoffed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The tables looked really full. For the most part, boys and girls stayed at separate tables. As far as Stanford could tell, that was the only organization. Then again, people stayed in seemingly random spots in the school cafeteria, but there was a very tight social hierarchy and bounds that were never overstepped. Perhaps the same thing went here. Kids made social boundaries surprisingly fast.

Stanley tugged Stanford along and plopped down at one of the tables nearest to the adult’s table. While Stanley sat at the end, he put Stanford down on his other side. Stanford glanced at the adult’s table. “They have a kid over there, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but you always sit with the adults.” Stanley looked over at the thirteen-year-old beside the smaller, gray-haired lady with big round glasses like him. Fiddleford grinned at her and spoke cheerfully. “Are they related, you think?”

“Maybe,” Stanford replied quietly, turned back to the table so he wasn’t staring.

“Didn’t you know?”

The two jumped and looked back. A brown-haired girl had sat next to them, her bright teal eyes wide. “That’s ‘Old Woman’ Chui you’re talking about.”

“What?” asked the twins.

The girl sighed. “The local kook. She’s the town crazy lady. She never knows where she is, and she’ll start talking nonsense and on occasion rattle off weird things in gibberish. She’s completely gone. And _he’s_ her grandson.”

“Fiddleford?”

“Yeah, that kid. I wouldn’t recommend getting caught up in that mess.”

Stanford’s curiosity turned into guarded suspicion. “Yeah? Why?”

“Hey!” Carly held up her hands. “I’m just warning you! That’s a mess too big for Mrs. Pines to clean up, and she’s been trying for _thirty years._ Ever since this camp opened. That lady’s a lost cause and that boy’s going with her.”

Another kid, a black-haired boy a bit short for his age, sat across from them, nodding grimly. “Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “He already is.”

Stanford shook his head. “That’s dumb. It’s the first day, you can’t know that much about him already.”

Nick and Carly shook their heads. Carly went on, “Stanford, Nick and I have been living here in this weird town all of our lives. We know what weird and crazy looks like. You don’t wanna mess around with that kid and end up like Dr. Pines.”

Nick sucked in his breath. At the mention of Stanley and Stanford’s great uncle, the rest of the table, and the one close to them, went quiet. Nick shook his head. “It’s bad luck to talk about him, Carly!”

Carly shifted in her seat and jutted out her chin. “I’m not afraid.”

“You should be!”

Stanford shook his head. “What? What’s bad luck? What happened with Dr. Pines? _Our_ great uncle?”

Carly’s and Nick’s eyes went wide. “You’re legitimately their great-nephews?” After receiving nods of confirmation, Carly went on, “Then you stay away from that McGucket kid or you’ll end up straight up like your great uncle. Gone in the woods without a trace.”

Nick hissed, “I said stop talking about him! The Beast will hear you!”

“We’re in camp, Nick. We’re fine,” Carly soothed.

“The Beast?” Stanford and Stanley asked at the same time. The rest of the kids muttered the same line to each other, some cautious some curious, eyes darting every which way.

Nick cut in, “Just wait until tonight. Mrs. Pines tells the story of the Beast with Just One Eye. It’s bad luck talking about him like that.”

Someone from a nearby table agreed, “Yeah! Don’t go around talking about _him_.”

“You’re new, but that just means you’re better prey,” a girl agreed.

A bigger boy next to Nick stated, “It’s true. Nick and I, we don’t like people getting hurt. So, stay safe, alright?”

Stanford nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

Stanley snorted and smacked the table. “Are you serious?! That dude’s our cabin-mate!”

Complete silence fell over them.

Carly looked over at another girl and then at them with round eyes. “R-really?”

“Yeah.” Stanley sat up straight. “I don’t care what you think. He’s a good kid. So, stop spreadin’ rumors about him!”

Carly looked at her plate, and then at him. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She trailed off.

Stanley and Stanford looked beside them. Fiddleford, who held his partially eaten plate of food, looked between them. “Oh, uh. Ah’m sorry. Ah can, uh…”

“No!” Stanford sat up straight. “It’s fine! You’re not interrupting anything. Why?”

Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, right. Um, may Ah sit with you guys? Since we’re from the same cabin an’ such?”

Stanley grinned. “Sure, dude! The more the merrier!”

Carly got up with a tight, “You can sit in my seat” before hurrying over to where a cluster of girls was sitting.

Fiddleford watched her go. “Oh my. Uh, Ah’m sorry. Was it somethin’ Ah said?”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Nah. Girls are weird. So, on the subject of, you know, literally anything else, how did you get here if you lived in Tennessee or whatever?”

“Pfft. Pity-clearance, _obviously.”_

Across the table, a group of boys had stopped talking. Preston, one of the more well-dressed and well-groomed boys, stood before them, smile wide and wolfish eyes concentrated on them. A few people shadowed him, in particular, one rounded boy with puffy brown hair, crystal blue eyes round as moons, and a place as his second shadow. A gorgeous teal amulet stuck to his throat.

Preston’s shadow prompted, “You’re his room-mates, right?”

Stanley sat up straight. “Oh, yeah. And what about you? The sun’s still up, I don’t think shadows ought to be out.”

The boy glanced up at Preston and then huffed, gaining a weird look about him. “I’m Bud Gleeful, grandson of Gideon Gleeful who owns the Ten o’ Telepathy! I am _not_ a shadow.”

Stanley grinned. “So, you’re sayin’ you’re a psychic?”

“Yes, actually. My dad and I both.”

“Cool! Prove it.”

Bud, sending glances up at Preston as if he’d never spoken for so long on his own before, crossed his arms. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

“Gleeful…” Stanford muttered. “Wait… hey! I recognize that name! Gideon? Your grandfather? The one who had the weird crush on my great aunt and stalked her for a year?”

Bud glowered at him. “My grandpa is a very smart man who’s good at a lot of things. If he actually liked Mabel they’d be married. He’s certainly not a stalker; he never got convicted.”

Preston scoffed, “Look, I know you never lived here, so I’ll let you in on something. I am the prince and Bud is my partner. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut around us.”

“We’re not afraid of you!” Stanley jumped up.

“Well, you should be. I–” Preston stopped. He’d raised his hand to point at Stanley, but caught sight of Fiddleford–who had also stood up–and Stanford, who stayed sitting but gripped the table with quite a bit of pressure to keep himself from backing down. His eyes flicked down and then up again. “Oh. Oh! Now I get it!” Preston laughed. “You’re only friends with the hillbilly because they’re used to seeing freakish things, aren’t they?”

Fiddleford put on a look of confusion while Stanford immediately went red in the face. Stanley snarled, “Don’t you dare!”

“Dare I what?” Preston prompted. Stanford looked around. A crowd had started to form. The adult table went very quiet as they caught sight of the confrontation. “Point out the obvious? That your friend here can’t even afford good clothes and that’s probably the only reason he got along with poor Jersey trash like yourselves? And him being new to this weird town making him think that your brother’s freakish hands are normal? Ha! You’re an even bigger idiot than I–!”

“LEFT HOOK!”

 

All four boys sat out on the porch. It was getting darker and quieter as dinner had ended and people were going to the crafting tent or their own cabins to get to know their roommates better. Of the four, Preston was the only one to have fully eaten his dinner before the fight. The other boys had no such luck. Thankfully, the red-head teen with the beard had swung by with their dinner plates.

Now, they sat in silence, empty plates abandoned. Stanley and Preston glowered at each other from opposite ends of the porch. Preston’s eye was getting swollen and dark and Stanley winced each time he had to move his left hand. The very old, very fat mascot of the camp waddled across the porch and sniffed the kids. The pig flopped down and set his pudgy head on Fiddleford’s lap. Preston scooted back a bit to keep from being sat on. Fiddleford stroked the pig’s head.

The door to the cabin opened, revealing their sparkly great aunt. “Aw! Waddles likes you!” she cooed. “Oh! Sorry, sorry. Come in. Waddles, show some manners!” The pig rolled over onto his back and moved his head so that Fiddleford was free.

Stanford got up and walked inside, Fiddleford at his heel and Stanley and Preston trailing behind. This part of the house was familiar. Grauntie Mabel’s room was just down the hall. This room, which Stanford had overheard his great-aunt call their “former study” looked more like a glorified principal’s office covered in colors that Stanford couldn’t comprehend. Posters of kittens and pigs along with pictures of family and friends decorated the wall. An ancient picture of an eagle with a younger version of Mabel’s face taped to it hung in a picture frame near her chair.

Once the kids had settled down in the squishy bean bag chairs and the door shut behind them, Grauntie Mabel plopped down in her own chair. “Okay! Welcome to Camp Twin Pines, where Mom and Cassy owe me twenty dollars. I knew you’d find trouble the first night, Stanley.”

Stanley smirked and shrugged. “I don’t find trouble, Grauntie. Trouble finds me!”

“That’s Director Pines to you, Stan! Hehe. Now, what seems to be the problem? What happened? Ford?”

Stanford blinked. “Uh, me?”

“Yeah, you!”

“Uh… well,” Stanford hurriedly explained what had happened, from them introducing each other to Preston’s rude interruption to the argument that ensued. Then Stanley punching Preston, which led to Dan pulling Stanley off and another counselor–a rather apathetic teen named Greg–to make sure Preston’s bruise wasn’t as bad as he was wailing about. Then getting sent to the porch.

“Heh. Yeah, sounds about right. So, Preston! Why’d you attack Stanley like that?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “I gave the whole ‘big happy family’ spiel and everything!”

Preston sat up straight. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault! I was just telling them how McGucket over here got to Camp Twin Pines. Stanley was the one who took it too far by hitting me first.”

“You deserved it!” Stanley hissed venomously.

“Stan it’s not your turn,” Grauntie Mabel scolded. “Words can hurt more than punches, Preston, you know that. It’s extremely rude and disrespectful to tease another person. There’s nothing wrong with having six fingers, it’s pretty cool actually. There’s nothing wrong with being in a family that can’t afford the best of everything. Having a great family is a wealth of its own.”

Preston huffed but didn’t contradict her.

Suddenly, Grauntie Mabel sat up straight. “Well, I’ve reached a verdict. It’s very obvious that you kids aren’t going to be getting along well at all. My friends and I talked, and we do have an extra cabin. So! For right now, you will be staying in the cabin you are assigned. This is the beginning of the camp and you guys don’t know each other well enough to not hate each other. So, you’ll be staying in your assigned cabins unless I think it would be better to move you. But you _did_ punch him, Stanley, and you were very rude, Preston. Tomorrow, you two will report right back to my office after breakfast! Until then, all four of you go back to your cabin and don’t come back out for breakfast.”

“W-wait!” Stanford burst out and then hesitated.

“Yeah, Ford?”

“We, um… are we going to stay in our cabins all night? I was, uh, looking forward to the campfire stories the others were talking about.” Stanford looked at his lap. _Ugh. Stupid!_

Grauntie Mabel hesitated. “Oh… You have a point. I get to tell the first ones… Aw, heck. You kids _can_ come to the campfire and I guess you can roast marshmallows. But! First sign of trouble and you’re turning in early for the night. You two still come by my office in the morning, got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the four stated.

“Good!” Grauntie Mabel got up. “Off you go! Unless you need any ice or something, then I can get Maria.”

“I’m fine,” Stanley grumbled as he got to his feet. Preston turned away without a word.

Grauntie Mabel opened the door and walked out. “See yourself out, would you?”

Fiddleford shut the door behind them. “It’s dark out. Kids are gatherin’ ’round the campfire already.”

Stanley nodded. “Totally. Hey, let’s hurry before someone takes all the good places!” Stanley ran to the campfire, Fiddleford and Stanford behind him.

Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford got a good seat away from Preston and his friends. The three split their own bag of marshmallows. The campfire started out as just talking. People chatted, and roasted marshmallows and the adults were only half paying attention to the kids. That was, until Grauntie Mabel burst out, “Who’s ready for some wicked stories?”

Silence fell over the camp and every pair of eyes were on Grauntie Mabel.

“That’s what I thought. Now, back when my brothers and I first moved here, these woods were as clear and calm as any chunk of forest in Oregon. Everything was perfectly normal. That is…”

She paused.

“…until we heard the Legend of the Beast with Just One Eye.”

In legend, the monster was a ferocious, shapeless beast with one large, slit-pupiled eye and a laugh that could paralyze the bravest of people. Even monsters of the wild feared this beast and shied from its presence. One day, back in nineteen sixty-something, Mabel and her twin brother went out to search for this beast. They searched and searched, but the Beast wasn’t there.

“Defeated, we settled down for the night,” Grauntie Mabel explained. “What were we going to tell our parents? That we ran off for nothing?”

Stanley breathed, “Oh no. He’s going to get them while they’re asleep.”

“I had the weirdest feeling as we fell asleep like something was watching us,” Grauntie Mabel went on. “We searched and searched, but the Beast wasn’t there.”

There was a pause.

“Then, in the middle of the night, after the flames of our campfire started to settle down, we heard him.” Grauntie Mabel stuck her stick in the fire and raised a flaming ball of sugar. “Oh, yes! His laugh drifted through the trees like a wild animal!” She shut one eye and let out the weirdest, high-pitched shrieking laugh they’d ever heard. Stanford gave an involuntary shudder. “All the sudden, the wind picked up and _whoosh!_ The fire was out!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed, waving her stick and snuffing out the flames on her marshmallow. “We couldn’t see a thing! But we knew he was out there. We could hear him in the trees. _He, he, he!_

“Then, just when we thought we could see his big eye in the darkness…”

_Whoosh!_ The dimming campfire went out under a particularly chilly gust of wind. The older teen from earlier jumped up behind them, yelling. The kids screamed and dropped their sticks.

Grauntie Mabel and the teens burst into laughter. Stanley sat up straight and glared at them. Stanford gently revived Fiddleford, who’d fainted. Grauntie Mabel laughed and finished off her crispy marshmallow. After glancing at her watch, she turned to the campers, “Oh, my! Would you look at the time! We should be heading off to bed. We got things to do in the morning.” She got up. “Good night and don’t leave your cabins! We have enough ‘missing campers’ legends to go around as is. We don’t need anymore.”

With Mabel’s warning fresh in their minds, the children went to their cabins to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not long at all, it seems! I kinda like this chapter. You know this was the third version of this story?  
> The first version was more like "Twin Trapped" where Stanford (living with Grunkle Dipper) and Stanley (living with Grauntie Mabel) lived very separate lives but went to the same summer camp.  
> The second version had Fiddleford instead of Tyrone and Ivan instead of Fiddleford. Ivan and Fiddleford being brothers and Ivan only getting in because his brother worked there. Fiddleford only getting in because he wanted his brother to join.


	3. Up Early, Out Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Stanley found trouble the first day. Who could blame him? Preston's face is just so punchable! But camp life must go on. With this new title hanging over the new kids' heads, the rest of camp should be quite... _interesting._

The first day of camp wasn’t that bad, aside from the near immediate quarrel between the two now known as the “rich kid” and the “troublemaker.” That night, the Beast with Just One Eye was on everyone’s mind. Stanford could hardly sleep, but not out of any pretense of _fear._ His heart beat rapidly and his mind flipped through a thousand thoughts as he struggled to put himself to sleep. To see the Beast! How could one imagine seeing a terrible creature gone down in legend as a monster that haunted their camp? A monster that his great-aunt faced as a kid?

It seemed no time at all had passed between when Stanford was finally able to sleep and when he was woken up.

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!” The manly shriek burst through the window and door. “GET UP, IT’S MORNING!”

Stanford yelled in fright and yelped as he hit his head on the ceiling. Stanley fell off the bed, thrashing in his cocoon of blankets. He shook his head and snarled lowly like an agitated crocodile. Preston grimaced and glowered at the door. Fiddleford yawned and got out of bed. The man outside continued marching about and yelling as the kids got out of bed.

When Stanford looked outside, they found the perpetrator to be a tall, very muscular man with wide eyes and short blond hair that was mostly bald. He screeched and marched in circles like some weird alarm-clock-slash-music-monkey-toy.

When it came to the bathroom, Preston hopped out of bed first, but Stanley met him there. Before the squabble could ensue, Dan walked up to them, his day clothes over his arm. Preston slowly backed off, as did Stanley. Dan took up the honor of first bathroom break.

Preston was the first of the campers to the bathroom and of course took the longest, ignoring any questions of time from Stanley’s hard knocking. When Preston finally left, his hair and clothes done meticulously well, the three other boys hardly had time to prepare for the day themselves.

Stanford yawned as they left. “Uh… did you ever tell us those dudes’ names?” He gestured to the other counselors with their cabins.

“Yeah! Everyone did,” Dan replied and then hesitated. “Wait, come to think of it, I guess I didn’t. Since, you know, my entire cabin was in the principal’s office. The guys won’t ever let me live _that_ down, thanks. Anyway,” He gestured around the place to the other teens. A red-head girl with a rather dark demeanor stood by a cluster of girls. “That’s Janice. You know Greg.” The dusty-haired teen was silently standing next to Reginald and his three cabin mates. “There’s Tyrone.” The one-eyed teen stood with Bud, Jessie, Nick, and Hank beside him. “Then there’s Daryl and Ed,” Dan indicated two teenage boys–one a large, dark kid already growing a mustache and the other a spindly lighter one with buck teeth–who stood hand-in-hand with him. “They’re technically interns. That’s Toby,” he gestured a rather goblin-like teen near the tables. “He’s the bus driver, not really a counselor. Janice is the only girl-counselor I know, so you’ll have to ask those two yourself.” He indicated the other two teenage girls, who were already sitting.

As they waited in line, Grauntie Mabel swooped in to stand beside Stanley and Preston. “Hey, Stan, Preston! Come on.”

“I thought we were going _after_ breakfast,” Stanley pointed out.

“Nope!” Grauntie Mabel took him by the hand and tromped off, Preston at her side. She led them both into the cabin.

Dan chuckled, “Enjoy being an only child.”

Fiddleford watched them go. “What do ya think she’s gonna do?”

Stanford shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. Probably nothing our parents would do since that never works on Stanley. Nothing works on Stanley.” His eyes went round. “Except… oh, I hope she doesn’t make him do that.”

“Do what?”

“It’s nothing,” Stanford chuckled. “Just a dumb thing Stan used to do when we were little kids. I’m sure she doesn’t have the costume.”

“…oh.” Fiddleford took a plate of food given to him. “Thank you, Miss!”

“ _De nada,_ Fiddleford.”

“Ah hope they come back soon.”

“I really don’t want to finish breakfast before him,” Stanford agreed as he sat down. “It’s bad enough he got in trouble on the first night.”

“Uh… Ford?” Fiddleford piped up, only moments after breakfast began.

“Yeah?”

“Ah found him.”

Stanford looked at Fiddleford and then the direction in which he was staring. Grauntie Mabel sat down between Soos and Grenda. Stanley… wasn’t wearing his regular uniform, and neither was Preston. They both wore a rather large, yellow sweater with two holes for the head and one on each side for an arm over their shirts. “THIS IS OUR GET ALONG SWEATER” was written in various patterns and colors across the face.

Stanford watched Stanley and Preston, bound together in that horrible sweater, walk into the dining area. Fiddleford muttered, “She’s ruthless.”

When Preston tried to talk to his friends, he was turned around as the stronger one in the duo led them to the far table with Stanford and Fiddleford. Stanley plopped down and immediately held out his hand. “Ford? Please?”

“You… yeah, fine.” Stanford sighed and pushed his plate half-full of food at Stanley.

“Thanks, bro!”

“Can we leave now?” Preston growled.

“Haha no.” Stanley gave him a smile devoid of any joy. “We’re stuck together for _three. Whole. Hours_. Since you started it, you’re going to suffer with me and my friends.”

“Three hours?” Stanford raised his eyebrows. “But won’t this impede anything you try to do?”

“I tried telling her that,” Preston grumbled, glowering in the opposite direction. “But the old lady obviously lives in her own wo-orld!” He yelped as Stanley elbowed him, causing him to fall backward. Stanley yelped as he was dragged with him. Now they were both on the ground, eggs spattered on their sweater and dirt in their hair. Preston glowered at Stanley with a livid hate. “I will sue you and I will own you.”

Stanford hopped off his seat. Fiddleford ran over to Stanley’s side took his hand. Stanford walked around and offered his hand for Preston. Preston looked him up and down before reluctantly taking his hand and accepting his aid.

Stanley sat down again and set his hand on his chin. “So, what do you think we got planned for today?”

Stanford shrugged. “I don’t know. But I have a _really_ bad feeling it’s a team-building exercise.”

Preston and Stanley groaned at the same time. “I’m _not_ going to be on his team!”

 

“Okay, campers! Teams of two!” Dan’s voice rang above the din.

The group of campers shifted as everyone found their teams. Preston and Stanley were automatically a team. Stanford and Fiddleford became a team as well. Once the crowd stopped shifting as everyone found their partners, they looked at the person at the front. A few teens stood up front, all holding small pieces of paper. Greg held bags. It had been Dan that spoke. He continued, “For your first day, we’re starting off with a hike into the woods!”

The girl next to him, Janice, muttered something to him.

“It’s sort of like a hike,” the boy muttered back before raising his voice. “We’ve got fifteen items on this list and three teams who’ll be enjoying an entire night off! First three teams to get everything on this list and bring it back without cheating will not have to do any clean-up or chores after dinner tonight. This goes for all _teams,_ not _individuals._ ”

Janice piped up, “And don’t cheat! Or, you know, do ’cause then I don’t have to work.”

Preston growled in a very soft voice, “And if _you_ cheat, Stanley, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Make me,” Stanley whispered back.

“Alright, come up and get your papers and Greg has your bags.” Dan indicated his apathetic brunette friend who held a handful of what looked like reusable cloth shopping bags that were patched in places.

Once every team had come forward to get their list, Dan called, “Three… two… one… don’t get eaten by bears!”

Stanford and Fiddleford looked over their list. Stanford read aloud, “Something fuzzy, two kinds of seeds, two pieces of man-made litter, something straight, round, smooth, rough, two different types of leaves, something that makes noise, a chewed leaf, a beautiful rock, something you think is beautiful, a pinecone, something green, a stick, and something you think is a treasure.”

“Okay.” Fiddleford, holding the bag, indicated the “cafeteria”. “Ah’m sure we could find garbage there.”

“I don’t know, Fiddleford. This is supposed to be a treasure hunt… in the… wait, they didn’t really specify anything. Great job, Fiddleford!” Stanford grinned and ran back toward the cabin. Fiddleford, beaming, followed.

Unfortunately for them, Maria was on the job and the entire place was very well cleaned. They heard Grauntie Mabel laugh behind them. “I just turned Stanley away. Great minds think alike, eh?”

Stanford looked at her and then Fiddleford. “Alright, well, it seems we’ll have to go into the forest for the rest of this.”

Fiddleford nodded seriously. “We just gotta stick close. The woods ain’t scary if yer with someone.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. Come on! We’re behind!”

Fortunately–or unfortunately?–they found man-made litter fairly quickly in the form of a tossed can and a wayward newspaper on the side of the road leading to the camp. Most of the things they found were average nature things–an oak leaf and a pine needle for the leaves, and an acorn and a walnut for the seeds–but the pair were able to find some neat things.

“Whoa!” Stanford breathed and knelt by a tree. “Fiddleford, look at this!”

Fiddleford looked over his shoulder. “What? Oh, Ah wouldn’t touch that. Ah dunno if it’s poisonous.”

“I won’t touch it,” Stanford reassured him. “I don’t know which mushrooms are poisonous, either. But this one is _glowing!_ If only we could take it.”

“Well, there’s a dead moon butterfly over here.” Fiddleford pointed to something green at the foot of an oak tree.

Stanford abandoned the softly glowing blue mushroom for the butterfly. “Moon butterfly? Oh! You mean the _Actias luna,_ the Luna moth. They’re quite pretty and slightly fuzzy. But I don’t think they’d appreciate a _dead_ moth.”

“Oh. You’re right, maybe not.” Fiddleford stepped back and looked at the list. “Well, all we need’s a treasure, somethin’ fuzzy, an’… that’s it.” He looked at the mostly full bag he held to make sure. “Yep, just a treasure an’ somethin’ fuzzy.”

Stanford stood up. “Well, good! I hope we’re not too late.” He looked over the glowing mushroom and gasped. “Oh, look! Another one!” Nearby, another blue mushroom grew. Like a moth to a flame, Stanford went to that one, and then the next. Soon, he and Fiddleford were in a completely different forest, one filled with bioluminescent fungi and flowers, fluttering wisps, and rocks with strange indentions that threw weird, surprisingly geometric shapes over their surface and the lush forest floor.

“It’s like somethin’ out of a book,” Fiddleford breathed, his wide eyes glazing over the forest.

Stanford nodded. “Yes! Oh, man. If only I could bring _everything_ back, huh? Let’s find something non-poisonous and small and something probably no one would miss, even a fairy or gnome or something.”

“Uh, Stanford…?” Fiddleford’s look of wonder slowly turned into nervousness.

“Yeah, Fiddleford?”

“Ah feel like Ah’m bein’ watched.”

“That’s not probable.” Regardless, Stanford looked up from the glittery moss he’d been focused on. “Where do you see anything? Or feel anything?”

“Those trees are real creepy.” Fiddleford backed up so that he was within a few inches of Stanford. “Ah feel like they’re watchin’ me.”

“Birches have weird knots in them. There’s nothing evil there.”

“What about the Beast?”

“He only comes out at night,” Stanford replied. “If we stay out of the forest at night, we won’t see him.”

“If you say so… still, this place is startin’ to creep me out.”

“Well… I guess I’ll come back here with Stanley once he’s out of that sweater.” Stanford sighed and left the way they came. Unfortunately for Fiddleford, as they left the magical air of the forest guarded by looming birch trees and went into a place dominated mostly by pine with some oak, the tone changed. Wisps of mist wreathed around tree roots. Birds stayed high in the trees. On occasion, a deer would look up and stare at them for an uncomfortably long amount of time before moving on.

“This is worse,” Fiddleford deduced. “Let’s jus’ find what we need an’ get outta here.”

“We really should hurry up,” Stanford agreed. “Who knows how many people have their things already! Now come on. Let’s see if we can find something fuzzy and something treasure worthy.”

As the two fanned out to look through the wood and bushes, Fiddleford started to jump and bristle or run away more and more often. He stuck by Stanford’s side until the odd rodent or small critter that startled him whisked away. Eventually, Stanford managed to uncover something beneath the leaf mold.

“The shiny glint was here and… a-hah! Look at that!” Stanford, kneeling on the upturned leaves, held up a dirty piece of circular glass, like one half of a pair of glasses. “A monocle. Oh, and it has a good rim, maybe not fake gold. Though, it is probably fake gold. Anyway, we only need one more thing!” Stanford stood up and dropped the monocle into Fiddleford’s bag.

“Look, Ford, Ah really think we should leave. There’re wild animals here!” Fiddleford pointed out, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“Don’t be like that. We haven’t gotten attacked, and I don’t think we will. This place is perfectly safe.” Stanford tripped over a root and hit a tree with a rather unmanly yelp. Inside of a _thud_ , it made a hollow _clang_ instead, as if he’d run into a tube. “What the…?” Stanford straightened himself out and dragged his fingertips over the side of the trunk until his fingers caught onto something. When he pulled it back… there was a gearbox of levers and buttons. Stanford looked it over. “Huh. Would you look at that.” He flicked a few of the levers.

Fiddleford screamed and rushed to Stanford’s side.

Behind them, a section of the ground shuttered and pulled back to reveal a metal cubby covered in spiderwebs and millipedes. Stanford gasped and rushed forward. In the dusty cubby, there was a grayish box. Once he picked it up and dusted it off, a silver pine tree flashed back at him. “Fiddleford… do you know what this means?”

“Someone hid a box here a very long time ago?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Yes.” Stanford untied the strings and opened it. “Oh my gosh, look at these cassette tapes! Who even uses these anymore? This must be _ancient!”_ He started flipping through the tapes, looking at the small drawings and number/latter patterns. “Oh my gosh! Monsters! Fiddleford, look! Magical creatures!” He pointed to a random tape. “Gnomes live here!”

“Gnomes an’ fairies!” Fiddleford agreed. “N-now come on, we better get back. We can show that as a treasure, right?”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly apprehensive, Stanford shut the box and held onto it. “We already found our treasure. The monocle, right?”

“Well… it has the pine tree symbol on it,” Fiddleford suggested. “Maybe it belonged to a camper!”

“Camp Twin Pines has _two_ pine trees on it. This just has one,” Stanford pointed out. “But that’s a solid theory. We should get this back to the cabin and meet up with Stanley. I don’t like making big decisions without his input. But first, we need something fuz–”

_Baaa!_

The two jumped and turned around. A young, one-horned goat stood behind them. When neither kid moved, the baby goat bleated again and walked forward. The other horn was a stump of a thing as if it had broken off a long time ago. It–he–tried to nibble on the box. Stanford put the box in his backpack. “Well, this goat is fuzzy.”

“Ford, Ah dunno if they’ll accept a goat. Besides, where’s its mama?”

Stanford shrugged. “This far in the forest and walked up to us? He probably got loose. We should return him to the cabin and he can go back to the farmers that live around here.” With that, he picked the goat up and walked off, probably in the direction of Camp.

When they got there… everyone else was there. Not only was everyone else there–and Preston and Stanley no longer wore their sweater–but some of the counselors and adults talked in rapid, quiet voices. Grauntie Mabel had a slightly guilty grimace.

“…the first day. Treasure Hunt’s always been the first activity!” Grauntie Mabel argued.

The woman next to her shook her head. She stated in a voice deep with a cold, “They couldn’t have gone _far._ Not out–there they are!”

“Boys! There you are!” Grauntie Mabel rushed up to them, her eyes wide as moons. “Oh, are you alright? You didn’t get attacked, did you? What took you so long getting back? It’s nearly lunchtime! Where’d you get the goat?

Stanford stuttered and cleared his throat. “We’re fine. Nothing attacked us, and we didn’t run into anything bad. We took a while finding things on the list and, admittedly, got a bit carried away exploring. Also… we found him. He’s fuzzy.”

“Ford, don’t you dare tell me you spent four hours out in the woods looking for ‘something fuzzy’ and came back with a goat.”

“…”

“Fiddleford?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“I _told_ you guys he was fine,” Stanley scoffed, trapezing up to him. “Hey, Ford. Preston and I got third place. Why didn’t you just pick up a dead moth or somethin’?”

Stanford started to reply but huffed as the baby goat turned his head and started eating his hair. This caused his great aunt and his brother to laugh. “Anyway,” Stanford started, “–where should I put him? We thought maybe one of the farmers lost him.”

“Well, we’ll go over to the farm,” Grauntie Mabel stated. “I’m sure Sprott will take him. But meanwhile, we should go have some lunch and start on the rest of the day, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gompers is found... and then immediately given away. Sorry, folks.  
> Also: THE [GET ALONG SWEATER!](https://68.media.tumblr.com/26f0702d671950852fa5a342974bd944/tumblr_nx03gdayXF1sg06u1o1_1280.jpg) I finally got to use it! :D I'm way more excited than I should be. Haha  
> Oh, right, and they found this world's version of Journal 3.


	4. Broken Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to settle down and relax from today's activities.

Stanford whispered, “Come on! I have to show you this!” He looked around and strolled over to their cabin, Stanley and Fiddleford behind him. As soon as they were inside, Stanford plopped down on the floor and took out the blue-gray box with the silver pine tree.

When Stanford opened it, Stanley made a weird, confused huff. “What are ya showin’ me?” He picked up one of the tapes and looked it over.

“They’re videocassettes!” Stanford announced. “And they’re covered in dates and pictures–look!” He picked up one with the picture of a miniature Santa and another with a husked, hairless gorilla adorned with a few mushrooms and jagged fangs. “If we had something that could play these… who knows what we could learn!”

Stanley smirked. “Leave that to me, _oh brother of mine._ ”

Stanford narrowed his eyes. “Oh? And you have something that can play a video cassette?”

“Probably not. What can?”

“Well, a very old camcorder could play these,” Stanford admitted. “I would then need an AC adopter as well as the camcorder. I mean, I can probably get what I need off the camcorder, but I’d like both.”

“I know where we can get them!” Stanley slapped his hand on the floor.

“How? Where?”

“The cabin! Grauntie Mabel has a camcorder. She loves taking home videos all of the time.”

“But won’t she miss it?”

“Nah, she got a replacement.”

“Then what makes you think she’d keep the camcorder?”

“Because she’s a sentimentalist!”

“Yeah, true.” Stanford looked at the tapes and then Stanley. “Well, how do we get in there? If we even step near that cabin, they’ll be on us and asking why we’re trying to get into the cabin.”

“Okay, well, I have two plans. Plan A: I do something stupid and get in trouble. Boom! I’m in the cabin! While she’s chatting with whoever cleaned up what I broke or somethin’, I can rifle through her drawers and find the camcorder.”

“That won’t work,” Stanford stated bluntly.

“Okay, plan B: we sneak in while she’s not looking.”

“Sneak in. You’re going to break into Grauntie Mabel’s cabin and steal her stuff.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it _that way._ Still. What’s more important, Ford?” Stanley prompted. “The ends or the means? You know what this is for!”

Stanford looked down at the box of tapes and sighed. “Okay, fine.”

“Sweet! Trust me, Ford. She won’t miss that old thing. We’re not stealing it forever, just until we get everything on our laptop!”

“Well, do you have a plan on when?”

Stanley leaned back. “Yep. She’s going to be distracted by the arts and crafts tent right about now, so I can sneak in while no one is looking and be back before you can say ‘camcorder and AC Adapter’. …do you have, like, a picture of those I could see?”

“Yeah, sure.” Stanford dug through his dresser and brought out their dusty, clunky laptop. He forced it open and tapped the power button a few times. Eventually, it sputtered on and requested a username and password, which it received. After a few long seconds, its username screen changed to the home screen.

Stanley frowned. “This is gonna take forever with this mangy old thing!”

“Don’t talk like that!” Stanford chastised. “You know how hard it was to get Dad to let us have it?”

“Harder than it should’ve been,” Stanley scoffed. “I thought he was throwing it away.”

“He… was, actually. Anyway.” He typed in a few things and showed off the screen. It showed images of an old camcorder and the wire in question. “There. That’s a camcorder and that’s an Adapter. Got it?”

Stanford nodded slowly. “Got it. Okay, I’ll be back.” He hopped to his feet and waltzed out of the cabin.

Stanford sighed and looked at the laptop. Fiddleford piped up, “So, uh, that’s yer laptop?”

“Yep. Dad gave it to us.”

“It’s, uh, a bit old,” Fiddleford pointed out. “Ah, uh, well…” A sudden blush warmed his cheeks. “Ah-Ah could take a look at it if ya wanted.”

Stanford blinked. “You know stuff about computers?”

“Yep! Ah’m hopin’ ta become an independent inventor one day. Ah love machines an’ Ah’m real good with them!” Fiddleford grinned. “It’ll take a day or so, but if Ah got the right parts an’ some time, Ah’ll have this thing workin’ good as new!”

Stanford hesitated. _He says “ain’t”, Stanford._ “Uh, not to be rude, but, this thing’s not easy to fix… But, you, um… do you have an example of your work?”

Fiddleford’s eyes lit up. He hopped up and ran to his dresser. After sifting through a few things, he brought out a handful of rolled-up blueprints. He plopped down next to Stanford and unrolled the first one. “Ah really love buildin’ machines an’ such. This one’s a favorite a’ mine: a big ol’ robot dog!”

Stanford looked over the blueprints with round eyes. “Wh… what? These are… how did you do this? This is advanced robotics! You find this stuff in gifted high schoolers, maybe college students!”

Fiddleford shrugged. “Ah really like machines an’ learnin’. So, Ah learn wherever an’ whenever Ah can.”

“I… hey, can I take a look at these?”

“Sure thing!”

“Thanks! And, uh, if you want to look over that laptop while we wait for Stanley, that’s okay.” Stanford looked through the blueprints, eagerly looking over the drawings and notes, his awe at the genius he saw on the paper only growing.

Fiddleford grinned and gently plucked the laptop off the ground.

Eventually, as Stanford looked over the last of the blueprints, the box of tapes caught his eye. Stanford shuffled through the tapes and made it to the bottom of the box, where a journal lay. It wasn’t too thick but was old and bluish gray like the box with a silver pine tree pasted on and a number three drawn in the center. When he opened it, it was in _code._ There were some journal-esc entries or random scribbles, but most of it was letters and numbers and symbols. He flipped through the journal, eyes wide and mouth agape. At one point, he came across a few pages holding a multitude of geometric lines and circles decorated with symbols. “What does it mean?” he breathed, looking over more pictures of magical creatures and items.

Then, who-knows-how-long-later, Stanley walked back into the cabin, backpack over his shoulder and grin on his face. “Hey, Ford, Fidds!”

“Heya, Stan!” Fiddleford looked up from the rusty computer, which was missing a panel on its side. A screwdriver and some other tools had somehow wound up in his hands and on the floor beside him.

“Stanley!” Stanford sat up straight. “Look what I found at the bottom of the box!”

“What is it?” Stan squinted at the paper, and not just because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“It’s in code!”

“Oh. Well, that’s boring, then.” He plopped down beside him, took off his backpack, and fished out a wire and camcorder. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks!” Stanford connected the camcorder and laptop, popped open a hatch in the camcorder, and gently put in the first tape. The camcorder sputtered a bit. A video popped up on the little camcorder screen. It was distorted, though, as if the video feed had been corrupted.

 _“Recording. June Eighteenth.”_ The creator’s voice came through mostly clear. It was smooth and laced with excitement. _“It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began researching the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon. In all my travels, never have I observed so many curious things! Gravity Falls is indeed a geographical oddity.”_

There was a pause.

The voice suddenly became frustrated. _“But the strangest thing about this town is the question:_ why? _Why is it that this one remote location houses more paranormal, alter-average, and super-usual phenomena than any other location on Earth? There has to be a hidden law of nature, a ‘Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness,’ which explains how everything in Gravity Falls is connected. My benefactors trust that I will use their grant money to discover something incredible, and I believe this Theory could be it. My continuing mission: Investigate the Oddities of Gravity Falls, discover the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness!”_ the author announced. _“End tape.”_

Stanford breathed, “Whoa…”

“So, this dude was workin’ on investigating _Gravity Falls!_ Do you think Grauntie Mabel knows anything about this?” Stanley prompted.

Stanford shrugged. “Who knows? We’ll need to watch more of the tapes and then decode this journal to find out more… okay, I’ll get started on transferring these fi… Fiddleford?”

“Yeah?”

“Is my computer working?”

Fiddleford looked down at the computer. “Yeah! Yeah, Ah can just put it back together real quick. Ah was jus’ looking’ through it. Ta transfer that many tapes, you’ll need some good storage, stuff this thing doesn’t have.”

Stanley piped up, “Uh, why are you looking through it, anyway? Wait, what are these? Oh my–this is what I get for leaving you nerds alone for five minutes!”

Stanford smiled sheepishly. “Uh… right. About that, uh… we might have to wait a few days to put these on the computer.” Fiddleford grinned. “And I might’ve loaned the computer to Fiddleford to fix. But come on, Stanley! He’s a mechanical genius!”

“How’d you know?”

“These blueprints are _amazing!_ Seriously!”

Stanford started to unroll one, but Stanley waved his hand. “I’ll take your word for it, bro. Anyway, we should probably plan something, right?”

“Right, right!” Stanford set his hand down. “Plan with me. Once we get these tapes down…”

“We should look at them, right? So, what should we tell Grauntie Mabel?”

“Mmm, I don’t know. She might know something about a visiting researcher. After all, the date isn’t specified.”

“But if there’s dangerous stuff in here, she might take it away,” Stanley agreed.

Stanford nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking. For right now, let’s keep it to ourselves.”

“Gotcha! …well, I’m bored.”

“Hey, it’s kinda weird if all of us are missing. Why don’t you go around and at least pretend to do some stuff? Activities you know?”

“Yeah, sure. But it’s still weird if you’re cooped up in here all the time.”

Stanford nodded to Fiddleford. “He’ll be here.”

“We’re cabin-mates,” Fiddleford agreed. “She’ll just take it as us gettin’ along!”

Stanford smiled and then sighed. “Then we’ll switch every once in a while.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Stanley stood up and moseyed toward the door. “I’ll scout out the camp, tell you what I find!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relaxing is too mainstream.
> 
> So, not only have we introduce the Mystery Trio, but the Science Duo! :D I really love writing Fiddleford. He's my biggest testing ground for mechanical inventions and ideas. Stanford is really good about mysteries and critters. Stanley makes a really good fire cracker and unusual voice of reason. While Stanford and Fiddleford fly off into their imaginations, Stanley's down there calling "YO, DINNER'S READY! ALSO, THAT PTERODACTYL'S GUNNA EAT YOU!" but, at the same time, covering for them so the adults don't see them playing with a pterodactyl and then subsequently punching that dinosaur when Stanford and Fiddleford get in over their heads.


	5. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, today's activities are starting off with a ban! I wonder what other crazy ideas Director Pines has up her sleeve.

“So, how far’d you go?”

Everyone had settled down for lunch. Everyone was back in the places they’d chosen for the last few meals. Stanford ate a slice of chicken. The baby goat lay beneath him, eating a corn cob. “Well, I don’t know how far, technically speaking, but we _did_ find the magical part of the forest!”

“The magical part of the forest?” Stanley breathed. “Really? Were there magical monsters?”

“Not that we saw,” Stanford admitted. “A lot of bioluminescence–you know, glowing mushrooms and lichen and flowers–and some weirdly formed rocks. But I didn’t see any magical creatures.” He glanced at the adult’s table and then leaned toward his brother. “But I found something out there–Fiddleford and I did–that I have to show you after this afternoon’s activity.”

Stanley grinned. “Oooh! Okay, okay. I won’t talk. I wonder what we’ll be doin’.”

“Nothing in the woods,” Stanford remarked, drawing a laugh from his brother.

“You’ll be lucky to ever _look_ at the trees again!”

“I know!” Stanford sighed. “If I tell them we found the magical side of the forest, then they’ll think we’ve gone nuts! Especially if Fiddleford tells them first because the birch trees freaked him out.”

Fiddleford blinked. “Why would me sayin’ it make it sound crazy?”

Stanford shrugged. “I-I dunno.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat.

Fiddleford frowned. “You’re lyin’ ta me, ain’tcha? Ah-Ah get it. Some bad rumor’s goin’ about me already, ain’t there?”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Some dumb kids think you’re going to go koo-koo or somethin’ because your grandma went insane. It’s nuts and dumb!”

Fiddleford looked at his plate. “Ah thought so. She’s a good woman, though. Jus’ because she talks funny sometimes or don’t make sense don’t mean she’s not a good person.”

Stanley huffed, “Dude, we know that. We’re not idiots who gossip too much.” Suddenly, his tone became sharp. “Hey! Get off–uh, what’d you name the goat?” Stanley lifted his leg and shook off the baby goat as he attempted to eat his pants leg.

Stanford grabbed the goat and gently set him down on his other side. “I haven’t named him. He’s not mine.”

“Well, you should call him _something._ I don’t want to call him ‘goat’.”

“Well, what kind of name do you give to a goat?” Stanford prompted. “Bleater?”

“That’s literally the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.” Stanley looked over at the baby goat, who was eating a new corn cob Stanford gave him. “He doesn’t have a collar or nothin’. How about… uh… Chomper! That sounds like a cool name.”

“Chomper?” Stanford looked down at the goat. “Like Eater? Well, that’s a bad name. Something like… something that starts with a ‘g’ because he’s a goat.”

“Gomper?” Stanley tried.

“Gompers. That sounds appropriate.” _Baaaa!_ “Well, he likes it.”

“Sweet! Now don’t eat my stuff, Gompers!”

“Don’t yell at him, he wasn’t even doing anything. I didn’t name him just so you could yell at him.”

“You kinda did, bro.”

“Did I name him to get yelled at, Fiddleford?”

“Ah’m not the judge a’ that.”

As lunch came to an end, Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Alright, kiddos! As customary, by the end of lunch, two things happen: first is you’re probably wishing I would let you go already so you can play with your camp-siblings. Second is mail time! If you got a letter or package, it’s sitting on that table over there.” She gestured to a table near the crafting tent. Toby had just set the last letter down amongst the other letters and packages. “Let’s clean up and then check our mail!” Immediately, kids got up and started putting away the dishes and trash from the lunch area. Stanford and Stanley, once they’d helped put away the last of the dishes, ran up to the mail pile. Nothing had been mailed to them.

Once mail time was over, and Gompers put inside the main cabin with Waddles to be taken to the farm, the kids made their way up to the front yard.

Grauntie Mabel announced, “Trust exercise! You guys know it!” Stanford and Stanley looked at each other. “And no choosing partners. This exercise is about getting to know people as well as getting to trust them. Now, everyone in two groups!” As people separated into one of two groups, a few counselors would go around and switch people around at Grauntie Mabel’s, or their own, will. Finally, once they had two groups of twelve, blindfolds were passed out to one group. “Okay, group one, put on your blindfolds! What we’re going to do is a version of ‘trust walk’. This game is called ‘Who Was My Guide?’ Basically, one group is going to be blindfolded. Then, everyone from the other group will find one partner and, allowing the blindfolded person to hold their arm, lead them on a short walk. Remember: the person in lead cannot talk at all. The person with the blindfold can talk as much as they want. The person in lead is responsible for both themselves and their partners, so keep your partner safe. When I say time, everyone separates, and then we switch!”

Stanford, holding a blindfold in one hand, piped up, “Uh, Mrs. Pines? I don’t know everyone’s name.”

“That’s the point!” Grauntie Mabel replied. “In this game, you don’t know who is leading you. When you take off your blindfold, you will try to assess who led you and then, if you don’t know their name, ask them! It’s a great way to start getting to know people. Don’t worry, we’ll have many other times to get to know each other. Blindfolds on! Come on!”

Stanford hesitantly put on his blindfold. “Blindfolds never lead to anything good.”

“Except for piñatas!” Stanley pointed out. Oh, right. He was blindfolded, too.

“Partner up and stay in the yard!” Grauntie Mabel called.

Someone nudged Stanford, allowing him to take their arm. They were smaller, and skin was softer like it belonged to a girl or younger boy who didn’t go out much. Whoever it was hesitated when he touched them, which was unfortunately normal but started walking nonetheless. He made a mental note to not let anyone touch his hands when it was his turn to lead. Stanford started off walking slowly, careful to put each foot forward and feel the ground before putting his weight down on it. A gentle tug from the person leading him urged him to hurry. “I-I’m hurrying,” Stanford mumbled. He didn’t change pace at all. The person in lead didn’t tug or nudge him anymore.

Eventually, he heard his great-aunt call, “Okay, kids! Stop and separate! Keep those blindfolds on for a few seconds longer.”

The person leading Stanford let go and walked back a few paces. When they were given the signal, Stanford untied his blindfold and blinked rapidly as the hard sunlight that got in his eyes was a sharp contrast from the dark blindfold. Stanford passed the blindfold to the nearest kid–a beach-blond boy in a ponytail–and set his own hands behind his back. Once the other kids had put on their blindfolds, Stanford wandered over to the nearest kid–a girl with puffy brown hair and a rather calm composure for someone blindfolded. He started to touch her arm, but hesitated and tapped her shoulder with his elbow. She jumped and, after turning her head around to “see” someone before realizing she was blind, reached out and put her hand on his arm. Oh. _Now_ he recognized her. Once they were given the command to go, Stanford started walking at his normal pace, careful to look out for things on the ground. It was flat and grassy and there weren’t many obstructions, most of them being rocks. Strangely, she seemed to be hardly paying attention.

“I’ve been going here for three years,” Carly commented. “You’re probably not anyone I know because everyone I know tried to hold my hand or my arm or something. Or maybe you are and you’re tricking me.” She cocked her head. “Or maybe you don’t like me, and you were forced to be my partner. Or maybe you got something on your hands and you think I’ll be able to point you out immediately. Actually, I think it’s that last part. Is it that last part?”

Stanford forced himself not to speak.

“You didn’t fall for it! Okay. Also, Susan, if that’s you and I guess correctly, I win for the day.”

Stanford blinked. Susan? Who was Susan? Then, Stanford stumbled over a rock. The girl yelped as she tripped but didn’t quite hit the ground as Stanford grabbed her by the back of the shirt and straightened her out. He bit his tongue to keep from talking.

She huffed, “Well, maybe you should watch where you’re going since I can’t.”

A blindfolded girl nearby, a girl with puffy, curly purplish hair called over her shoulder, “Take care of Carly!”

“Hey, Susan!” The girl Stanford lead–Carly–called back. “I can take care of myself.” Stanley, the one leading Susan, snickered.

“I hear you snickering!” Susan chastised.

Finally, they were given the signal to separate. Once everyone was back in their places and their blindfolds were off, Grauntie Mabel called, “Alright! People who were blindfolded first: who were your partners?”

Stanley stepped to the side and patted Fiddleford’s shoulder. “This guy!”

“What makes you say that?”

“Uh…” Stanley looked at him. “He’s taller than me and he has that _Fiddleford aura_ about him. You know, I can sense it’s him.”

“Fiddleford?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah.”

“Stan, ‘no peeking’ was implied, you know.”

Most people were able to point out their partners fairly quickly. The most common reason was due to the fact that they knew each other somehow and thus recognized each other, even blindfolded. Stanford desperately looked around the crowd. One girl, happily bouncing on her heels and looking at her friends, was not being talked to by someone else. Stanford started toward her and then hesitated. How was he going to explain this? He couldn’t just say “because she’s a girl,” that’s dumb! He could use the excuse that everyone else has already found their partners… yes. Good plan.

Stanford walked up to the purplish-haired girl. “Uh… Susan?”

The girls’ eyes brightened with interest. “Yep! That’s my name!”

“Were, uh, you, uh… partner? Mine? Er, my partner?”

Susan grinned and nodded. “Yep! You look a lot like your brother. Hehe, how’d you know?”

“Uh… lucky guess?”

“Okay, kids! Switch it up! People who were blindfolded _last time:_ who were your partners?”

Stanford held his hands behind his back and looked around. Trying to stay as nonsuspicious as possible as Carly walked past him, he looked at his brother. He and Susan were talking already. Eventually, Carly walked up to him. “Hmm…” She looked him up and down and shoved him.

Stanford yelped and stumbled back, waving his arms to keep himself balanced. “Ah! What the heck?”

“It was you!” Carly announced triumphantly.

Grauntie Mabel, who was by now next to them, chuckled, “How’d you know?”

Carly turned to her. “For one: I don’t know him. For two: he stopped paying attention to where he was going and tripped over himself and made that funny noise. For three: he kept looking at me, well not even looking at me, suspiciously just now. For four: he didn’t want to use his hands, so I thought that was suspicious. He has six fingers, so I was right.”

Whispering broke out amongst other kids at that _last_ piece of news. Stanford shoved his hands in his pockets, his cheeks heating up a bit under the sudden attention. “Good deduction skills!” Grauntie Mabel congratulated loudly. “Now, who wants to go on a few more walks?”

People caught onto Stanford fairly quickly due to his unique situation. So, Stanley, ever helpful, often switched with Stanford last minute or loudly interrupted people or would otherwise make a scene to distract them from him. Although Grauntie Mabel got onto him a few times, she never had any force in her voice.

A few more walks later, which turned out to be seven with each switch counting as one walk, they were given permission to run about for a few hours before dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /still snickering about the sweater  
> But really. I researched for days the best types of summer activities, and there weren't too many wildly helpful ones. But I did manage to hold down a few. So, here we go! The trust walk!


	6. Farming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gompers was a great companion! But some things just aren't meant to last...

In the few hours between finding the camcorder and dinner, the Stan twins managed to figure out where everything was. They switched every thirty minutes, giving them both time to concentrate on the tapes and look around the camp. Fiddleford stayed squarely in the cabin, often unaware one twin was gone as he concentrated. Grauntie Mabel would walk around the camp, but she was mostly seen in the crafting tent. The bulky lady with a rough voice who sat by Grauntie Mabel at meals turned out to be Grenda, the cook. Then there was Candy, a crazy old lady who sometimes trailed behind Mabel or Grenda, but was sometimes caught standing somewhere with a dazed, lost look in her eyes. Soos sometimes lumbered around but wasn’t seen too often. Then there was Tyrone, who was the oldest teen at eighteen and rarely ever talked to anyone, much less hung out with other teens. He was perfect rumor fodder as he disappeared during breaks, was only seen when fixing something or screwing in a lightbulb, rarely spoke, and never talked about the triplet scars that ran over his forehead and down his left cheek, one of which crossed over his foggy left eye.

 

After dinner, Stanley, Preston, and four others were allowed to take the night off as everyone else helped clean up and put stuff away. Part of the way through dragging a trashcan around the yard and throwing away things that ended up on the ground, Stanford felt a small tug on the ankle of his pants. He looked down to see two wide, side-ways eyes staring at him.

“Gompers?” Stanford prompted.

The goat bleated.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the farm.”

Gompers bleated and started eating a tin can.

“Well… I guess you can stay with me for a while longer. Since you’re helping me clean up.” Gompers didn’t answer, but he stayed close to Stanford as he worked. By the time the dining area was clean of trash and wiped down, Stanford completely forgot the baby goat by his side was an oddity.

“Your goat’s back?” Susan prompted, turning her head to look down at the baby goat.

Stanford set down the trash can and picked him up. The goat fell asleep in his arms. “Yeah. He kind of just found me.”

“Didn’t Farmer Sprott put a collar on him?”

“He should have, but it looks like he didn’t,” Stanford stated. “Well, he’s coming with me, now. I see no reason for him to go back right now.”

“Yeah, it’s getting dark,” Susan agreed, though the smile on her face told him she was most likely humoring him.

“Hey, Sixer! Hey, Gompers,” Stanley greeted as he joined them. “Campfire’s going to be lit soon. Come on!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Stanford shifted his grip on the goat so that he was more comfortable and followed Stanley to the fire. Susan left them for her own friend group immediately.

The counselor closest to him, Janice, looked him up and down. “What’s with the goat? Didn’t Mrs. Pines get rid of it?”

“Gompers is a he,” Stanford crossed. “Yes, well, he must have gotten out and found me again. Goats are tenacious.”

Grauntie Mabel broke off her conversation with “Growling” Grenda. “Gompers is back? That little trickster! He likes you!”

Stanford smiled and petted the sleeping goat. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, you want to help me bring him back tomorrow? Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Stanford’s smile left him. “Huh? Bring him back? Well… I mean, I might be busy tomorrow, but… sure.”

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “That’s good. Now, relax! Have some marshmallows! Don’t let Gompers eat any.” She turned back to Grenda and Candy, who’d gotten a dazed look about her.

“He’s your goat,” Stanley commented, spearing a marshmallow and holding it over the flames.

“No, he’s not.” Stanford sighed, holding his stick over the fire as well. “Mrs. Pines is right, I have to bring Gompers back.” Gompers looked up at him with sleepy eyes as he heard his name. Then, he lowered his head and shut his eyes again.

“How about some campfire songs?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

 

Stanford woke up early the next morning quietly transcribing the tapes he viewed through the camcorder onto a journal. Gompers slept next to him, his fuzzy body rubbing against his side and slow, small breaths rhythmically expanding and contracting his little chest. Stanford put a hand over his mouth as he yawned and stared down at the video over gremloblins. His eyes started to close, and he leaned forward. Maybe just a little…

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!” the shriek blasted from outside. Stanford yelped and clung to his bedsheets and blanket. “GET UP! IT’S MORNING!”

Stanley groaned audibly. “Can someone tell him to stuff it?”

Fiddleford hopped down. “No, it’s time to wake up.”

Preston grumbled but got up all the same. Dan being first in the bathroom and then Preston taking the longest time as well as being second became routine. When Stanley prompted Fiddleford on what was wrong–as Fiddleford was shifting from foot to foot and twiddling his fingers–Fiddleford waved him off.

The blond-haired, hollow-eyed man from yesterday morning marched around in a circle, yelling as loud as he could. Stanley rubbed his eyes. “Dan? Is he always gonna be like that?”

Dan nodded. “’Fraid so.”

“Dangit.”

As Stanford was in line for breakfast, Grauntie Mabel handed him a bag of pellets. “I nipped those this morning. They should make a good breakfast for Gompers.”

“Thanks, Grauntie.”

As Stanford settled down to eat, he inspected the bag of pellets and poured them onto a plate. Gompers hopped onto the seat, bleating and nuzzling Stanford to get to the alfalfa mix. “Gompers! Be patient.” He set down the food, allowing the baby goat to hop down and eat.

“You sure you wanna get rid of him?” Stanley prompted.

“No,” Stanford grumbled. “But I can’t keep him. Dad said we couldn’t get pets, remember? Plus, goats have horns and he could break something. What if he got into the shop while Dad was working and accidentally ate something or chewed on Dad’s pants or interrupted Mom on the phone or broke something? We don’t have appropriate food at home, anyway. So, it would be irresponsible.”

“Okay, old man. Wonder what we’re doing today.”

Grauntie Mabel walked up behind them as breakfast ended. “Hey, Ford! I was thinking we could get an early start, so he doesn’t have to wait around here all day.”

“Okay. Come on, Gompers.” Stanford set his plate on the others and followed Grauntie Mabel to her blue, sticker-peppered car. Gompers trailed obediently behind him. He jumped into his lap when he sat down in the back seat. The town, Stanford found, was busy even in the summer. The houses were nice, if weathered, and the people seemed friendly as they passed one another with greetings. At the edge of town, they came across a farm with a large “PETTING ZOO” banner. All types of hooved animals from sheep to goats to cows roamed in their pens.

“See? Lots of goats for Gompers to play with,” Grauntie Mabel stated. “He’ll be nice and happy here. I know Farmer Sprott’s a good caretaker. I got Waddles years ago from him as a little pig.”

“I know.” Stanford picked up Gompers and walked behind Grauntie Mabel as they walked into the farm. “I’m going to miss him a little bit is all.”

“Aw, I know. It’s hard saying goodbye. But it’s for the best. Trust me.”

The man that met them looked to Gompers immediately. “There he is! That goat’s the biggest escaper I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, Gompers is pretty smart. He’s good at finding me,” Stanford agreed.

“Gompers?” Sprott echoed. “Well, whatever floats yer boat. Just put him in with the others.” He tipped his head to the pen nearby.

Stanford nodded and walked up to the goat pen. When he set Gompers down on the other side of the fence, the baby goat looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Gompers. But you have to stay here. It’s better for you here.”

The goat made a tiny, sad bleat and pawed at the fence.

“I’m sorry! But you have to stay.” Stanford backed up, hands coiled behind his back. A few other goats milled over to him to inspect their lost friend. Gompers bleated again. Stanford turned his back to him and walked up to Grauntie Mabel. Yet, as she talked with the farmer, he looked back. Another young goat head-butted Gompers. His horns were larger, and he had both of them. Gompers bleated and rammed into him. Then, the two bounced around each other and around the pen.

Grauntie Mabel patted him on the shoulder. “See? He’s happy with his friends! Come on. I have a special day planned.”

“What are we doing today?” Stanford prompted.

“It’s a funny little game I discovered recently called ‘Alien Invasion’. I was thinking that was a good game to start off the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Far thee well, Gompers! You were a nice kid.
> 
> Anyway, Alien Invasion sounds fun! :D Also, this is a very short chapter.
> 
> Also, also: the schedule right now is Monday/Wednesday/Friday. But I have another project in the works. So, depending on how far along I am in that project, I might just shift this to a Tuesday/Thursday sort of deal. But now it's the weekend and I'm super busy trying to construct my mother's birthday party on Sunday. So... I might as well be making honey with how busy I'll be once my feet touch home turf.


	7. Alienated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gompers is gone and now Stanford is back in action... which hopefully means a good day at camp...

When Grauntie Mabel and Stanford got back from the farm, Grauntie Mabel gathered them all up. She held three baskets in her hands. “Alright, kiddos! I’ve got a really exciting game today! The game is called ‘Alien Invasion’. Basically, you’ve been captured by aliens and need to protect their eggs as they put them down from their spaceships. The aim of the game is to get these three eggs–” She plucked three chicken eggs from the baskets. “–and have them survive a fall from the porch.” She indicated the porch to the main cabin. Now, we’ll separate into three teams: seven, seven, and three. Dan? Janice?”

Dan and Janice went through the crowd of kids, separating them into the three teams. Stanley had been put in the same seven-person team as Preston and Susan. Stanford, Carly, and Fiddleford were put in the other seven-person team. Bud was on the three-person team. However, Grauntie Mabel switched Stanley’s place with Stanford, much to the teens’ confusion.

Preston muttered, “Wonder why they let Stanford in the team. Wouldn’t he be the alien?” A few kids next to him snickered. Stanford tensed but ignored Preston and the reddish tinge in his cheeks. Instead, he dug his hands into his pockets.

Bud’s team was put next to the porch. Stanley’s team was just out of arm’s reach and Stanford’s team was next to them, just out of reach. They were allowed to separate themselves into three teams. Bud’s team put on blindfolds and Dan and Janice gave the baskets to them.

Grauntie Mabel announced, “Right! Team one, you can talk all you want. You’ll need to give team three directions on how to prepare the egg. Team two, you cannot talk–not even through sign language, I know some of you can do that–but you can communicate to team one through body language.” She walked up so that she was standing on the porch. “This takes a bit of time, remember that! But I’d still keep it moving if I were you. Now, you have thirty-five minutes to prepare these eggs! Let’s go!”

Bud took the materials out of the basket, the materials being straws, scotch tape, and scissors. Stanley glanced at Stanford who, after struggling not to fall back onto sign language, mimed out a few actions. Fiddleford looked at him and then Bud. Stanley stated, “Alright, Peeps! Bud, you take the straws, and sorta arrange them like a box. Tape ‘em together so they make like a cube thingy. Ehhh… okay, okay. Make it sorta like a… what are you sayin’ Fiddleford? Whatever Fiddleford’s probably referencing.” Fiddleford sighed heavily.

Bud took out a bunch of straws and started to arrange them. The other kids in the group took turns trying to guide Bud to the correct place as he’d sometimes overshoot or try to tape the ground or his fingers. Dan, Janice, and Grauntie Mabel watched them all, though more attention was spent on the blindfolded one as they used scissors.

Stanley glanced at his brother and team. Ignoring Preston and his frustration, he concentrated on Stanford. “Okay. So, take a bunch of strips of tape and make a sorta spider-web thing inside. Make it sticky. Thank you, blonde lady.”

“Darlene,” said a girl next to him.

“Sure, sure. Bud: make the spiderweb sticky and keep it loose, not stiff.”

_Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

“Time’s up!” Grauntie Mabel announced. “Pencils down, blindfolds off!”

The blindfolded kids immediately set down their contraptions and took off their blindfolds. Bud looked at theirs and then at his friends. He frowned as he realized Preston wasn’t on his team but erased the look immediately.

“Okay, let’s see how your eggs fair against gravity! Bud, let’s start with you. What did your team come up with? Oooh! Pretty!” She took the box from Bud, set the egg in the center, and then held it above the porch. Grauntie Mabel dropped it. When it hit the ground, the straws bent and straightened out and thing bounced once. The web, as it wasn’t stiff, shuttered and bounced. The egg, firmly stuck to it, went with the motion until it no longer moved. Bud’s team clapped. Some people from other teams did as well, but a few threw jealous or angry glances at them. The second one was similar to Bud’s but made it a dodecahedron. This egg faired well. The third was a box inside of another box. No tape was used in a web design. Although the egg survived, the shell cracked.

Grauntie Mabel picked up the cracked egg. “Well, I can use it to cook breakfast, but it’s still cracked. Now, Dan, Janice? What do you think?”

Dan and Janice both held an egg. They looked over the shells and then traded to look over the shells of the other. Dan stated, “No cracks.”

Janice shook her head. “They’re the same. But, I think team two should win.”

Grauntie Mabel cocked her head. “Why is that?”

Janice jabbed her thumb at Stanford. “The kid’s some sort of genius or smart, right? Stanley’s also pretty good at, like, reading his twin. They probably have twin ESP or something. Also, that Fiddleford kid’s supposed to be really good with machines and contraptions and stuff. They pretty much had an unfair advantage.”

Dan nodded. “Yeah, kinda true. But their things were pretty identical. I mean the circle one looks kinda cool.”

Grauntie Mabel nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm… true, true. I did split the teams unevenly, I guess. And that circle one looks nice. Alright, team two it is.”

Stanley scoffed, “We made ours fair and square. Didn’t even cheat this time.”

Janice threw a glance back at them. “Yeah, but look at your team, dude. You got the good side of the stick.” She smirked and, while Grauntie Mabel was busy with the winning team, chuckled. “Besides, the alien’s on your team, too.”

Stanley bristled. But, before he could retort, the teenage woman was walking away. He saw her give one of the kids–oh-ho no, it was Preston–a low-five as she passed. Stupid rich kid was just sore he rightfully lost.

Darlene nodded, staring at the winning team. “Oh my gawsh, just because I love spiders that means my input was unfair. They’re unfair! You two–we–couldn’t even talk. Also, twin ESP isn’t a real thing.”

Susan nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry, Darlene, we’ll win the name game.” She smiled and leaned toward her friend. “We’ll win the next game against those losers.” Darlene grinned back at her.

Stanley clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Hey, let’s go watch a few monster videos before lunch.”

“Okay.” Stanford’s eyes brightened and the two walked off to their cabin. He tried not to dwell on what the girls said and how creepy it had been. They were just really competitive, that was all.

Once lunch came around, and then mail time, the Stan twins rushed up to the pile to see if they’d gotten anything. At first, Stanford was disheartened as he watched people pick up letters or packages. There weren’t many, meaning not everyone got mail. Still, they’d have at least liked a letter from–there! Stanford picked up a letter addressed to them. “Hey! We got one!”

The two walked back to one of the tables and opened it. Stanley immediately took it, smoothed it out, and cleared his throat. _“Dear Stanley and Stanford,_

_“Aunt Mabel told us about what happened on your first day of camp…_”

Stanley looked up at his brother, his voice trailing off. The two decided to read the letter in silence.

“ _…and your mother and I are very angry with you. We sent you to your great aunt’s cabin as she’s been asking for you two specifically for years. And this is how you repay her? By breaking the rules she put down for her camp that she’s been running for thirty odd years? I better not hear of any more trouble. If I get another phone call about even the slightest toe out of line, you both will be very sorry.”_

The handwriting changed, then.

_“Your father’s right, you two better behave! But we also heard of how well you two have been getting along with your other room-mate, Fiddleford. Aunt Mabel tells us he’s her best friend’s grandson. Aunt Mabel’s friends are very fun to be around. Get along with everyone else. I love you two, but I don’t want to see you kids here all summer when you could be having fun with two dozen kids your age all the way across the country._

_With Love_

_-Mom and Dad”_

Stanley and Stanford stared at the paper for a little while. Stanley clicked his tongue. “I don’t know how I’m supp’sed to feel about this. Pa’s pretty mad but Ma’s not.”

“Don’t punch anyone else in the face, that’s what that means,” Stanford warned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stanley folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. “I’ll behave. Once Preston learns not to mess with me.”

Stanford sighed. “This is going to be a long summer.”

 

When dinner came around, Stanford and Stanley had managed to craft… well, they might have been pictures of fireworks that glittered in the light. But honestly, they were probably just glorified smudges of glitter on dark paper.

Stanford sat down between Stanley and Fiddleford. “So, Fiddleford? How is progress on that laptop?”

“Great!” Fiddleford grinned. “Ah had ta run out ta grab some spare parts, but it’s lookin’ real good. Give me, ah, the rest a’ the day, maybe some tomorrow an’ it’ll be done. How ’bout those tapes you were writin’ down?”

“Oh, I’ve got a few written down. I’ll need a bit more time to transcribe them, though.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!” Mr. Poolcheck, as they’d found the weird man’s name to be, yelled right on time–down to the second. That morning, Stanley and Preston glared at each other over breakfast. That morning, Fiddleford waved down Stanford and Stanley, who were near the crafting tent.

In their cabin, Fiddleford brought out the laptop. Although it was shut, they could see the shine of hard work and the lack of rust and n dirt. They sat down on Stanley’s bed and opened the laptop. Stanford nearly opened it too fast as the hinges it was on no longer stuck or creaked. The front had a funny sheen to it as if the glass was new and newly polished. The keyboard was a bit weird. Extra orange master keys had been added. Fiddleford explained, “Ah know how cumbersome it must be to use a standard keyboard what with an extra finger, so Ah modified it ta fit ya better. It should be simple ta learn, Stanley, if you’re interested.”

Stanford breathed, “Holy sh… you did this?” He tapped the power button. Immediately, the laptop blinked on, showing a lock screen of the two brothers with their arms around each other’s shoulders on the dock. An eight-digit password appeared.

“S-T-A-N-F-O-R-D. Like Stan an’ Ford! You can change the password later if ya wanna.”

The home screen was the same picture as the lock screen. Some new icons had been added other than the basic “DOCUMENTS” and “INTERNET” icons, primarily being a cleaner and an anti-virus. Since technology wasn’t generally allowed, the internet icon was useless right then, but not once they got back to New Jersey.

“So, Ah cleaned it up a bit. Ah didn’t look through anything, but Ah did have ta move it off a’ the computer fer a bit. But you should have loads more mem’ry and everythin’ should be in the same places as they were.” He brought out a flash drive that Stanley took. “Everythin’s on here if ya want it.”

Stanley turned to him. “You did all this? By yourself?”

“Mostly, yeah,” Fiddleford answered. “Ma grandma taught me all Ah know! Thankfully, she isn’t too busy, so Ah was able ta get her help teachin’ me how ta do some a’ these things.”

“This is amazing,” Stanford breathed. “You’re a genius, Fiddleford!”

The boy flushed a hot pink. “Why thank ya, Ford. That means a lot comin’ from you.”

Stanley laughed. “This is so cool! Ma and Pa’ll be so surprised when we show them! Oh, man! Sorry I doubted you, dude! This is so cool!”

“Oh! I should see if I can transfer these videos from the camcorder, now!” Stanford carefully set the laptop down, grabbed the camcorder and box of tapes, and hooked it up to the laptop. “Oh, wow! Look at that. Much faster than it would’ve been a few days ago. You’re going to go far in the inventing field, I know it. I’m glad to have a cabin-mate like you.”

Unfortunately, they didn’t get to spend a long time in their cabin.

Grauntie Mabel stood by a bus and waved. “Hey, kids! Field trip, come on!”

Teens got in first since no one challenged them, not even when Janice arrived late and cut to the front. Stanford and Stanley were near the back. But, as Preston bullied his way forward, he waved his hand and another kid joined him. Stanley glowered at the three boys, Preston, Bud, and Jessie.

When they got near the front, Stanford found Fiddleford standing next to Grauntie Mabel. He was tense and shivering and, when Grauntie Mabel prompted him on coming with, he violently shook his head. “Ah-Ah’ll meet ya there.”

“Are you sure? It’ll be much faster taking the bus.”

“N-no. No, Ah’m fine. Ah need to go, um… do something, first.” He ran off.

Stanford watched him leave before he and Stanley boarded. They were able to find a seat near the middle where they could sit together. Stanford watched as the short trail and the town flashed by. The bus hissed to a stop after only a few minutes of driving. “Lake! Stanley, we’re going to the lake!”

“Really?” Stanley tipped his head to look out the window. “Aw, sweet! That’s why she made us pack our sunscreen! Cool!”

Grauntie Mabel stood at the front of the bus. “Alright! Road Trip Rules. One: Put on your sunscreen. Two: Stay within sight. Three: Don’t mess with the wildlife. Four: Stay in earshot. If I call, you come back. Five: Don’t bother the people on the docks. Six: Have fun!” She stepped out of the bus, allowing the crowd of kids to follow.

Stanley grinned. “Hey. She didn’t say anything about the people on the water?”

_“Stanley!”_ Stanford hissed. “If you get banned from the lake, I will leave you behind.”

“No, you won’t,” Stanley scoffed. All the same, his teasing smile toned down a bit. Once they got outside, and they were reminded to put on sunscreen, the duo ran to the lake, kicking up rocks and dirt and trying to trip one another as they went.

Stanford looked over the water and then the shore. “Aw. There’s no sand. Just dirt. Stanley, do you thin–off! Pah!” He shook his head and wiped off the clod of wet dirt that had hit his shoulder.

Stanley stood a few feet away, another ball of mud in his hands. “You talk too much!”

“Stanley! I’ll get you back!” Stanford swooped down to grab a clod of mud, just barely dodging another throw from Stanley. They ran up and down the shore, chucking mud and debris at one another. Finally, Stanley, hands plastered with mud, ran up to the docks. Stanford gave chase, only to realize at the last second it was a trap. Stanley spun around and tripped him, sending Stanford flailing into the lake with a _kur-sploosh!_

Stanford righted himself instantly and, ignoring the tendrils of lake plant life that twisted around his ankles, came up for air. “Plegh! Ew! Lake water is disgusting!” He climbed up onto the dock and shook himself.

Stanley laughed. “You smell awful, too!”

“Shut up!” Stanford huffed. “At least I’m not covered in mud!”

“I don’t need a lake bath to cle-an–!” Stanley cut himself off with a yelp as Stanford shoved him off the dock. Stanley grabbed Stanford’s ankle and pulled them both down into the lake. When they resurfaced, Stanley splashed Stanford. This led to a tussle, involving splashing and shoving water more than chucking balls of mud.

Eventually, the exhausted boys heaved themselves back onto the dock, spitting out lake water and laughing as they went. Stanley helped Stanford up. “I think I almost ate a turtle!”

“I’m pretty sure a fish tried to eat _me!_ ” Stanford stood up and looked down at his soaked clothes. “Oh, wait. Were we supposed to change into something?”

Stanley looked around. The other kids weren’t wearing their regular suits and instead had on blue and white swimsuits. He shrugged. “Meh. Whatever. We’re already wet.”

“And the water’s making my clothes heavy,” Stanford huffed, spitting out a soaked lock of hair as they walked back to land.

“At least you don’t look like a curly porcupine, anymore!”

“Say the same for yourself!”

They shook themselves and walked back to a cluster of benches near the bait shop. The two flopped down and, catching their breath, soaked up the warm sunlight on the hot day.

 

Eventually, Stanford woke up and, yawning, stretched. Stanley was still peacefully asleep next to him. Stanford looked down at his clothes and wrinkled his nose. “Egk. I’m going to smell like this forever, aren’t I?”

Stanley blinked open his eyes and tossed his head forward. “Huh…? Oh, wha…? Yeah, you stink.”

“Thanks.”

“Grauntie Mabel’s not going to let us back on the bus if we’re still all wet and stuff.”

Stanford nodded. “We really should’ve changed before…? Huh?” He lifted his hand. On his left was a small, neat pile of two folded outfits and two dry towels as well as a few of the things they’d accidentally dropped like sunscreen and their bathing suits. A note was on top with neat, careful handwriting. Stanford picked it up and read it aloud. “ _‘Just put your clothes in with your bathing suit before you get back on the bus. Mrs. Pines won’t mind.’_ Huh. That’s nice of… whoever did this? Wait a second. Hey, I recognize this handwriting! Where’s Fiddleford?”

Stanley shrugged. “I dunno. Let’s get changed before Grauntie Mabel gets onto us.”

Stanford gathered up their things and followed Stanley as they walked to the bait shop on the shore. The man behind the counter watched them move through the shop but didn’t comment. His light brown hair had been pressed down over his eyes by a fisherman’s cap.

By the time they were out and had put their stuff down by their bags on the bus, Grauntie Mabel walked up to the dock and gathered them together for another activity, this one involving racing each other on canoes. Stanford and Stanley won, whooping and high-sixing each other.

 

When they got, they all took showers and changed into their clean clothes. Stanford, sitting on his bed and waiting for one of the last few tapes to download, looked at the note that had been left on their clothes.

When their friend came back, Stanford prompted him on the clothes. With a light chuckle, Fiddleford confessed he couldn’t let a friend down like that. Stanford… liked this kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, is twin ESP really NOT a thing???  
> Also, Fiddleford's laptop password is canonically "STANFORD" :)
> 
> So, this thing was originally two parts (split in two by the scene break) but honestly? The alien game on its own would've been too boring. So, enjoy a boat!


	8. Magic of the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If magic is so real, why don't they go out and find it?
> 
>  
> 
> ...that sounded like challenge, didn't it?

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!”

As the trio sat at their table eating breakfast, Stanford set the journal he’d been writing all the tapes down on the table. “Alright. So, I’ve been looking over the tapes and there are a lot of magical creatures around here.”

Stanley grinned. “You thinkin’ of goin’ out?”

“Yep! It’s Saturday, so there aren’t any activities today,” Stanford explained. “We should have plenty of time to find some magical creatures, maybe take a few specimens home!”

Fiddleford shrugged. “I dunno. Goin’ into the forest. Doesn’t that sound dangerous?”

“Yeah, but we’ll be together,” Stanford pointed out. “Nothing should attack a group like us. But we do need to grab a few weapons…”

Stanley grinned. “Hey! I think I can get us a few weapons.”

“Stanley, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Stanley squawked. “I just, you know, happened across some really cool weapons when I was finding that camcorder thing.”

“Grauntie Mabel keeps weapons in her house?”

“Yep.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “This is a bad idea. Ah’m behind ya, you know that, but goin’ inta the forest? What if we encounter some real bad magical creatures?”

“We’ll be careful,” Stanford replied. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But we won’t be here forever! We should explore while we still can!”

Fiddleford grimaced. “Are ya gonna tell Mrs. Pines at least?”

Stanley scoffed, “Dude, she’ll just try to stop us!”

“Ah guess so…”

“But first, we’ll need supplies! We need to get packed and ready for our first expedition.”

 

Stanford gently packed up a few things he might need–those things mainly consisting of a compass, medical supplies, informational guides, the tapes, camcorder, his own journal, extra pens, some water, and his laptop. Stanley packed up snacks, water, and a few things Stanford couldn’t fit in his backpack.

Stanford stated, “Alright. I’ve been thinking about this. If we’re going to be adventuring, we’re going to need to record our findings. For time’s sake, I’m thinking we can shorten our names. S for you, Stanley. F for you, Fiddleford. P for me, like Pines.”

Stanley piped up, “Wait, what about having some really cool cover names?”

Stanford shook his head. “Nah. I think letters will work just fine. Fiddleford?”

“Ah sometimes use my first initial,” Fiddleford agreed. “So, Ah like the idea.”

“Great!” Stanford jumped off his bed and donned his backpack. “Let’s get going!”

 

“…then we took a left here and… ah-hah! Mushroom!” Stanford took out his journal and started sketching the glowing mushroom in his journal. A crossbow and large net had been slung over his shoulder.

Stanley yawned dramatically. “Mushroom? Really?”

“Yes! I’ve never seen a glowing mushroom before. These could be very important down the road!” Stanford finished sketching the plant and got up. “Anyway, the first creature on our list is a gnome. They’re small, humanoid creatures with pointy red hats. Once we cross into their territory, we should be able to find them fairly easily.”

“Then what should we do?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Capture one!” Stanford answered as they walked.

Stanley picked up a branch and twirled it as they walked. “This is great an’ all but when are we gonna find somethin’?”

“It might take a while,” Stanford stated. “After all, these creatures might be shy. …we could set a trap for it.”

“Yeah! That’s somethin’ we could do! Then we can sneak up on ’em.” Stanley agreed, his smile returning. “This oughtta be fun! Where’re we putting the trap?”

Fiddleford started to speak, but sighed and resigned himself to walking behind them. “This is a bad idea. Look, maybe we could observe them from a distance an’–”

_Hrrrrrrrrrr… gggrrrrrrrrr. Huuuuuuuurrrrrrr… grrrrrrrrr._

The trio stopped in tracks as they heard loud, heavy snoring. Immediately, they crouched and hid behind the trees. In a clearing just a few yards away, was the largest creature any of them had ever seen. The beast was scaly and long with a thick tail and body and squat, heavy arms like a crocodile. But its head was far from crocodilian with fur, a rounded muzzle, and pointed ears like a dog’s head.

Stanford immediately took out his journal and began looking through it. “Guys!” he whispered. “I don’t see this monster on here!”

“Ah-Ah don’t care what it is, we gotta move!” Fiddleford breathed.

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I agree with Fidds. Look at the teeth on that thing!”

Stanford stared at the creature and adjusted his glasses. A wide grin spread across his features. “Fascinating.” He started to scribble down a drawing of the creature. With a frustrated huff, he whispered, “I’m going to get a closer look.”

“ _FORD!_ ” Stanley and Fiddleford gasped.

“Are you insane?!” Stanley hissed.

“No! Get back here!” Fiddleford squeaked.

Stanford crept forward, careful to put his feet in the right place at the right time. Finally, he was just feet away from the monster, quickly scribbling down a picture of the beast. Stanley hit his head with the palm of his head and Fiddleford shut his eyes and muttered a quick prayer. Eventually, Stanford looked back and signed, _“You two wait there.”_ Without waiting for a response, he took out a tape measure and edged closer to the creature.

Stanley stared at him with an open mouth. “We’re gonna die.”

Fiddleford snaked his fingers through his hair. “Yer brother is insane.”

“You got that right.”

Stanford slowly measured the creature’s long face and claws, careful not to touch it. After a few minutes of estimation and measuring, he slowly walked backward until he met his friend and brother. “See! And we are alive!”

_Baaaa!_

The trio jumped. Gompers bounded out of the forest. In an instant, the three hushed the baby goat. Stanford gestured for the baby goat to come forward and picked him up. “Quiet, Gompers,” he breathed. When they looked back, the monster was still asleep. They let out a sigh of relief. “Good!”

“Hah. For a moment I thought he’d wake up!” Stanley chuckled in as quiet a voice as he could make.

“Yeah, Ah thought so, too. Now let’s get outta here!” Fiddleford whispered.

Stanford nodded and carefully walked back in the direction in which they came. Fiddleford and Stanley were quick to heel. Once they were a safe distance away, Stanford set Gompers down. “See? That thing slept like a hibernating bear! We’re fine–better than fine with this discovery!”

“Yeah!” Stanley smirked. “We could’ve taken him, anyway! We can take on anything!”

Fiddleford gulped. “Let’s jus’… stay away from it next time. We got lucky, but we can’t count on always bein’ lucky. Gompers almost gave us away!”

“He’s a baby! He didn’t know that,” Stanford said quickly. “Ahem. Besides, it didn’t wake up and I got some really good notes on it! Now, we should go back for lunch. Once we came back, hopefully, we’ll find a gnome or a fairy!”

 

“Thanks, Maria!”

“ _De nada, Chicos._ ”

Across from them, Nick prompted, “Where have you guys been?”

Stanley shrugged. “The woods. You know, huntin’ down the paranormal.”

Nick’s eyes grew round. “Whoa, really?”

Hank perked up. “What did you find?”

“A dog-headed crocodile!” Stanley answered with a wide grin. “Part dog, part crocodile, all monster! Ford! You have your notebook?”

Stanford took out his notebook and showed Hank, Nick, and Reginald the pictures he’d drawn of the beast. “It was massive and it’s snoring was even louder! These are just approximate sketches of what its underside looks like.” Stanford pointed to a picture of the monster on its back.

“Whoa,” Nick breathed. “That’s awesome!”

Reginald piped up, “You drew that? You’re really good!”

“Yes, I did. Thanks.” Stanford cleared his throat and brought the notebook back.

Stanley picked at his lunch. “So, hear any news or whatever?”

Reginald stated, “Rosanna told me that Carly told her that Janice is taking her cabin out to a forest story.”

Nick and Hank gasped. Nick buzzed in his seat. “Really? Oh, man! Is this the first?”

Reginald nodded. “Mhm. The first of the summer!”

Stanford looked between them. “Forest story? What’s that?”

Hank answered, “It’s where some counselors take their cabins out in the woods at night and tell their unapproved stories. This is after the campfire and after everyone else is in bed.”

Stanley grinned. “Oh, man! Now I need to go to one! …but Dan’s a rule-follower.”

Nick shook his head. “Nah, man! It’s camp tradition. I bet he was gonna tell you guys after dinner or something!”

“I’m sure we’ll get to go, Stanley.”

Fiddleford grimaced. “That sounds pretty dangerous, though.”

“It’s fine,” Hank soothed. “Literally no one has ever gotten attacked during a forest story. Just… don’t tell any staff, alright? It’s still kinda not legal.”

Stanley nodded sharply. “My lips are sealed!”

 

When it finally came time to sleep, Stanford sat cross-legged in his bed, gathering materials he’d need. On their second trip out, they hadn’t used much, nor had they seen too many things outside of strange flora and glimpses of odd fauna.

Dan looked at his charge and shook his head. “Someone told you already, huh?”

“Yep!” Stanley agreed. “So, you takin’ us?”

“Oh definitely.” Dan smirked. “Forest stories are a camp tradition! Keep quiet and pack light, though. You don’t want to be weighed down. They say the slowest person gets eaten.”

Fiddleford squeaked, “Ah thought ya’ll said we wouldn’t get eaten!”

Dan nodded. “Only if you’re careful and you pack light and you don’t tell another soul. Whoever told you about it was really lucky I’m letting you guys go. Only counselors who are going get to tell people. Otherwise, the Beast confuses them with snitches. Snitches are people who go to the staff and tell them about the forest story.”

“Wh-what happens ta the snitches?”

“They’re cursed!” Dan answered.

Stanley scoffed. “That’s dumb!”

“It’s true,” Dan countered. “I remember that there was this kid in my cabin. Went straight to Mabel and told her all about the forest stories. She interrupted the whole thing and sent everyone back. We had community service the next day. Three days later, he got sick with the chicken pocks and had to leave camp. The kicker is: no one in town had chicken pocks.”

Fiddleford gulped. “Oh, man.”

Stanford hopped down. “You know, that could have been a coincidence.”

“He had headaches all three days and weird dreams all three nights before,” Dan pointed out. “Those chicken pocks were stubborn, too. He was cursed.”

“Look, campers don’t go out after dark,” Preston pointed out. “Mrs. Pines made that very clear on the first day. I’m not getting in trouble because you hooligans want to go out and listen to ghost stories.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Hey, man. I get it. You’re scared. You don’t have to go. We’ll just brief you when we get back,” Stanley soothed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

“Scared? I’m not _scared._ ”

“You totally are.”

“I’m not! I’m very brave; I’m not scared of something stupid like ghost stories.”

“Prove it.”

“ _Fine._ I’ll go with you.” Preston jumped up and grabbed his bag. “But if anything happens, I’m suing you and your family.”

Stanford hopped down from his bed. “If anything happens, we’re dead and you won’t get to sue him.”

Preston glared at him, though it looked a bit weaker. “Y-yeah right. Like that would happen. To me.”

Dan grinned, shut the lights, and opened the door. “Stick close to me.”

The shadows that played in the day consumed the night. The darkness twisted everything into weird, colorless versions of their daytime selves. The snapping flags and shuttering cloth tents blotted out the stars. Trees loomed high, branches outstretched like unsheathed claws and knots staring at them from all angles like swirling eyes.

Preston squeaked and then cleared his throat. “We’re getting pretty far away from camp.”

Stanford glanced back. The last light of Grauntie Mabel’s cabin was gone behind the undergrowth. “We are.” He grinned and looked forward. “Who knows what nocturnal creatures we’ll see!”

“We’re almost there,” Dan reassured him.

“Couldn’t we have brought a light?”

“Nope.” Dan’s eyes flashed in the moonlight. “There’s only one lantern-bearer. Janice is it tonight. Greg!”

“Dan.” Greg appeared, two boys at his side, one of them being Bud.

“Is Janice here?”

“Nope. Tyrone, Daryl, Ed, and Toby are.”

“Great. Well, Janice has the lantern.”

“Yep.”

The cove they went into was crowded, but not overly so. Only a portion of the camp was there, surrounding a large pile of sticks and branches yet to be lit. Teens stood or sat around the fire, behind the children. Two other teenage girls were there. Stanford looked around. With Janice, they’d be completely surrounded.

Then, a light flared behind them.

Janice, a lantern burning hot and bright in her hands, led Susan, Carly, Darlene, and Priscilla into the little cove. “Waiting for me?”

“As always.”

“Shut up. You’re next!” She shoved Dan and sat down at her place. “Here you go. Light the camp on fire, Susan.”

“Happy to oblige.” Susan took the lantern from her, tromped up to the campfire, and dumped it onto the cool, brittle pile. The wooden fuel burst into flames, sending weird lights and shadows dancing over the children and the woods around them. Susan gave the lantern back and sat between Stanley and Carly. Stanford looked around. The firelight sent strange lights and shadows over them.

“Okay.” Janice leaned forward. “Now, I think you know why we’re here.”

“You’re goin’ to tell us cool stories, right?” Stanley prompted.

“Not just that!” Janice stated. “Tonight, I’ll tell you twerps about _Dr. Pines._ ” Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Stanford’s eyes went wide. “Grunkle Dipper? But he disappeared almost thirty years ago! No one, not even the FBI, could find him!”

“Yeah,” Stanley agreed. “What would you know about him?”

Even Tyrone, previously unimpressed and borderline bored, turned his one-eyed gaze on Janice.

“Plenty!” Janice stretched. “Well, you see, it isn’t as simple as ‘he was taken.’”

Oh, no. No, it couldn’t be that simple. All the younger teens chipped into _this_ story, even Toby who wasn’t good at story-telling told his parts with chilling clarity. Greg, who often overromanticized some stories, told his parts in cool, dark tones with blunt words. Thirty years ago, Grunkle Dipper and Candy Chui were in these woods. For years, Mabel and Dipper had hunted the Beast to no avail. While Mabel gave up and went her way, Candy joined Dipper. Once, they went too far too fast. They found the Beast.

“Then Chiu runs back!” Janice waved her hands in a grand manner. “Dr. Pines is nowhere to be seen. Chiu’s a babbling mess. For days they try to get anything out of her, but there’s nothing they can do. When Mabel finally comes back, Chui turns to her and says with the clearest voice they’d heard from her in days: ‘When Gravity Falls and Earth Becomes Sky, Fear the Beast with Just One Eye’. She’s never said another understandable word again. They say the Beast took her voice so she could never tell anyone what she’d seen and stole her sanity so she’d never have the guts to find him again.”

Dan agreed, “When Mabel went into the woods to find him, there was nothing she could do. So, in his honor, she opened ‘Camp Twin Pines,’ a summer camp she and her brother had always dreamed about.”

Janice piped up, “And to this day, the Beast haunts the Camp. They say that the Beast had been trying to capture Dr. Pines and Mabel both since they were the first children to come across him. But when the Beast caught Chiu, he just threw her out. Now he’s waiting, watching, yearning for the day when Mrs. Pines leaves her cabin and finds him in the woods.”

“Not just that.”

For the first time since he told his name in camp, Tyrone spoke. The firelight danced in his eyes, one misted and one a clear, dark brown. “He’s only able to affect you in the mind as you sleep for any amount of time–even a short nap. He only appears when summoned. The first symptom is a headache. Then, _he_ appears in your dreams, wanting to strike a deal. _Never_ listen to what he says. He’ll take advantage of you and make you do terrible things to yourself and others.”

One brave kid asked, “How do you know? Th-this is your first year here.”

Tyrone looked at him. “Where do you think I got this?” He gestured to his face.

There was a stark, choking silence before–

_Snap!_

The entire gathered group screamed and jumped and scrambled away from the source of the noise. A rush of brown and silver launched itself out of the woods and into their little makeshift camp. The children–even the teens, all but Tyrone–scattered, all running back to the sanctity of Twin Pines Camp. Stanford patted his shoulder and gasped, “My bag!”

“ _Your bag?!_ ” Stanley shrieked as he felt Stanford’s hand tug out of his grasp.

“Yeah, my–hey, wait.” Stanford stopped and looked back. The silver and brown shape bounded away from the fire and up to them. Gompers looked up at them with wide eyes.

Stanley burst into laughter. “Gompers! Didn’t Grauntie Mabel give you back to the farmers or somethin’?”

Stanford picked up the baby goat. Gompers immediately fell asleep in his arms. “He’s a strange goat,” he commented as they walked back to the fire.

“Heh. Did you see the look on their faces, though? Ha!”

Stanford snickered as he picked up his bag and started kicking dirt over the campfire. “Gompers has a sense of timing, alright.”

Stanley helped kicked dirt over the campfire. “So, Tyrone? What do you know about the Beast?”

“I know his name isn’t _Beast_ ,” Tyrone stated, arms crossed and cool eye flicking between the two. “And I know he’s dangerous. Never–I repeat _never_ –strike up a deal with him.”

Stanford prompted, “You have?”

“I have. He tricked me.” He shut his eyes. “I’ve seen what happens to people who let him into their mind.” Suddenly, he opened his eyes. “You three went out into the forest today, didn’t you? To search for monsters?”

Stanley and Stanford, who’d finished putting out the fire, nodded. “Yeah.”

Tyrone pushed himself off the tree. “And did you find anything special? Something out of the ordinary filled with monsters and codes? Maybe like a… journal of some sort?”

The twins looked at each other.

“I won’t steal it and I won’t get you in trouble,” Tyrone stated. “In fact, I think I know a thing or two about it.”

“Really?” Stanford gasped. “You know the author?”

Tyrone blinked. “So, you do have it.” He looked around before leaning forward so that he was on their level. “Show me, would you?”

Stanford nodded. “We will!”

“Ford!” Stanley hissed. “He just said he knows the Beast! What if he’s here to steal it?”

“I just said I wouldn’t steal it,” Tyrone stated.

“See?” Stanford smiled. “He might help us with these codes, too!” He turned and walked back to camp. “By the way, there is a book, but it’s mostly in code like some sort of coded journal. But the monsters and magic are in the videocassettes that came with it.”

When they opened the door, Fiddleford squeaked, “Stan! Ford! You guys are alright!”

Preston was sitting in his bed, curled up with the blankets around him. “Wh-what? They’re alive?”

“Yeah, we’re alive!” Stanley scoffed. “It was just Gompers.”

Preston glared at them, though his voice was still very weak. “Dumb goat.”

Dan laughed, though his voice had an uneven pitch to it. “That goat’s a weird one.” He sat up straight. “Tyrone!”

Stanford set Gompers on the top bunk and brought the pine tree box off the bed. “It’s this! Box number three.” Preston’s eyes went wide.

Tyrone gently took it from him and swallowed. “So, you do have it.” He untied the string around it and opened it. He shuffled through the tapes, looking over each one individually. “Extraordinary.”

Stanford bounced on his heels. “So, you know the author? You can decode it?”

Tyrone hesitated, and then nodded. “May I borrow this for a few days? To study?”

Stanley’s eyes narrowed. “You _are_ tryin’ to steal it!”

“I’m not stealing it,” Tyrone chided. “I need a bit more time to study these as well as something to read them.”

Stanford brought out his camcorder. “It’s Grauntie Mabel’s, but I’m sure she won’t mind. Promise you’ll tell us what you find.”

Tyrone shut and tied the box and then set the camcorder on it. “Thank you. I’ll give it back in a few days. If I glean anything from it, I’ll tell you.” He started to walk out but hesitated with his hand on the door. “Don’t talk to my cabin about this. Preston, that includes you.”

“Why not?” Preston challenged.

Tyrone’s gaze darkened. “Don’t challenge me.” With that, he swept out the door.

Stanley watched him go. “Uh… that was weird.”

Preston scoffed, though his voice was very shaky. “A-as if he could intimidate me!”

Fiddleford tightened his grip on his pillow, which he held in a tight hug. “Ah dunno. He sounded real serious.”

Dan narrowed his eyes. “He won’t try anything.” Regardless, the normally tough teenager’s voice quivered near the end.

Stanford sighed and climbed up onto his bed. “Well, he’s our best lead. Besides, I’ve already transferred all the videos onto my laptop and have transcribed them onto this journal along with half of his coded journal.” He lay down and threw the blanket over himself. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Ford.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to post this chapter for a while. :)
> 
> I especially love the idea of "Forest Stories" so I had to put it here. Mabel already knows what they are and knows that they happen. But she won't spoil the fun! Also, we get to see Tyrone do something other than stand ominously in a shadowy corner!


	9. A Small Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too big.

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!”

Saturday night turned into Sunday morning much too quickly. Still, breakfast was being served. Not only that, but they had another day–the first Sunday in their camp–to go out hunting magical monsters.

Stanford packed up his things. “Hopefully we’ll find more than interesting fauna.”

Fiddleford sighed. “Ah hope we don’t find anythin’ like that crocodile monster.”

“What?” Stanley looked up from his fully packed backpack. “You crazy, man? That was so cool! Until Ford decided to go mess with it.”

“I didn’t mess with it,” Stanford chided. “I simply got a closer look to document it properly.”

 

“Thanks for lunch, Maria.”

“ _De nada, chicos._ ”

Stanley plopped down in his seat. “Ugh! I can’t believe that gnome saw us and got away!”

“We put down a trap,” Stanford soothed. “We should catch one by the time we get back.”

Fiddleford nodded. “At least it’s just a small critter, nothin’ too dangerous lookin’.”

 

_“At least it’s just a small critter, nothin’ too dangerous lookin’.”_

Stanford paused to take a picture behind himself.

“FORD!” Stanley screamed. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“They’re fascinating!” Stanford called back, catching up with his fleeing brother and best friend. He stumbled as the ground shook. “Simply fascinating.”

_RRRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAR!_

“I mean listen to _that!_ They’re able to sync their voices so well that they can make such a loud noise!”

“Yeah!” Fiddleford panted, darting onto a hiking trail and running back to camp. “Can we admire ’em later? Like, when we’re not bein’ chased by a two-story-tall gnome monster?!”

They jumped as the monster stopped and ripped a tree out of the ground. Behind them, every gnome in the forest had stacked on top of each other to create one giant gnome. Now, it picked up a tree and tossed it at them. The pine tree soared over them and clattered onto the trail before them. The trio stumbled as they hurried to slow down. That is, all but Stanley who scrambled onto the tree and catapulted himself off the trunk. Stanford and Fiddleford followed suit, managing to get back onto the trail just before the monster caught up to them.

As the trio got to the “CAMP TWIN PINES” gate, the ground stopped shaking.

Stanford slowed and looked back. The gnome monster had stopped. Atop the gnome monster, his eyes burning with hate, Jeff screamed, “AND DON’T COME BACK!” The gnome monster deteriorated as the gnomes let go of each other and scampered off.

Stanley gasped, “Why’d they do that?”

Fiddleford panted, “Ah dunno, but–” _huff,_ “–Ah’m just glad–” _huff,_ “–that it stopped!”

Stanford scribbled in his journal. “Fascinating! The gnomes must not like going near the camp. I wonder why? If magical creatures didn’t like it here, why does Gompers have no problem coming here? If Gompers indeed has some strange properties to him.” _Baaa._ “He seems to understand what I say. Don’t you?” _Baaa!_ “Fascinating!”

Stanley took his brother’s hand and walked into the camp. “Let’s get you inside before we get eaten by another monster.”

Stanford gasped. “I just realized something! Stanley, what if I attract monsters? It would make sense! Grauntie Mabel invited us here, yes, but as we got near, I felt something. I felt attracted to this place. With my six fingers being different than everyone else–what if I’m an anomaly, too? That would explain why Gompers keeps coming here and listens to me specifically.”

“Then we better get inside before you attract any more monsters and get us eaten!”

“We only came _close_ to being eaten, we never actually got injured!” Stanford scolded.

“Yeah, well,” Fiddleford said as he leveled his breathing. “–that’s enough excitement fer me, at least.”

Stanford sighed. “Oh, but we have another three hours until dinner’s ready!”

Stanley looked around and then gestured to the crafting tent. “Wanna see if we can get Grauntie Mabel to let us play inside?”

“Okay!” Stanford shrugged.

“Crafting sounds fun,” Fiddleford said happily.

 

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!”

“Hey, Fordsy!”

The table of kids looked up. Grauntie Mabel, cleaned up and perky as if it wasn’t the morning, stood behind Stanford with her hands behind her back.

“Hello, Ms. Pines!” Stanford sat up straight. Gompers fled and hid behind Stanford’s shoes.

“Gompers is a persistent little goat, isn’t he?” Grauntie Mabel chuckled.

Stanford glanced at his baby goat and then up at his great aunt. “Yes. Actually, I was thinking about that. Gompers seems to be able to find me no matter my location and no matter how he was penned up. He found me in the woods _and_ at camp. Farmer Sprott doesn’t own him, and he didn’t have a collar when I found him.”

“Mm… I’m sorry, Ford. I’m the only one with a pet around here, and Waddles is technically a mascot. Even so, your parents were very, very, _very_ firm about not giving you a pet.” Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “It’s like they think I’d give you a puppy for your birthday!”

Stanley chuckled. “That’s something you’d do!”

“Oh, you know it, kid!” Grauntie Mabel clicked her tongue. “Anyway, we’ll have to take him back to the farm again.”

“What if he’s a nature spirit of some sort? A familiar?” Stanford prompted. “That would explain how he keeps getting out and how he keeps finding me.”

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “That story really got to your head, huh? I should’ve seen it coming, you little monster-hunter-in-the-making! But all that magic nonsense is just legend.”

“We saw it, though!” Stanford complained. “Stanley, Fiddleford, and I! We saw it! Like when Fiddleford and I went out into the woods on that treasure hunt and ended up in the magical side of the forest! Or when we stumbled across a sleeping simurgh! O-or when we were chased by a giant gnome monster! That happened _yesterday._ They’re afraid of this camp. I-I have so many theories a-and–”

“Hun-bun.” Grauntie Mabel sighed. Stanford quieted. “We’re going to have to take Gompers back today, anyway. You really should stop reading those magic books. You’re starting to sound like–” she hesitated and cleared her throat. “You’re _sounding_ like you’ve been looking too deep into those campfire stories! After breakfast, we’ll have a bit of time before the next activity. You can come with me, then. Hey, today will be fun! It’s better this way, anyway. Your father really doesn’t like pets. It’s not like you can get goat food for him.”

Stanford sighed and looked at Gompers. “Yeah… I know. The most logical thing to do would be to give him to someone who can take care of him.” _The most illogical way was what he felt was right, though! No. Stanford, you’re a logical soon-to-be-scientist and anomaly hunter. Think with your head! You’re good at that!_ He set his gaze and nodded. “I don’t have the time or food or care for him.” _Baaa!_ The baby goat hopped onto the bench and then flopped down on his lap as if he hadn’t slept through the night. Still, Stanford didn’t speak. He knew the heartbroken look his great aunt was trying very hard to hide. He knew how easily he could change her mind.

Once Grauntie Mabel was gone and back to her table, Stanley scoffed, “You could’ve convinced her.”

“Yeah, I know!” Stanford hesitated. “But if he was magical, he could prove it.”

“An’ if he’s not?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Well, it’s for the better. I can’t take care of Gompers, and Pa will throw a fit if he sees him, much less thinks that I would even think of keeping him.”

“You can’t reason with the guy,” Stanley agreed and waved his fork. “It’s always ‘This is my decision,’” Stanley poorly mimicked their father’s voice. “‘I’m the man of the house.’ Mom’s always like ‘Your father’s right.’” Stanley rolled his eyes, but his voice was surprisingly accurate. “Even for the _dumbest_ things!”

Fiddleford shrugged at his food. “Well, Ah dunno, but, Dad’s usually right. If he’s not, Mom or one a’ ma aunts an’ uncles were.”

Stanley scoffed, “Well our parents are different from yours. Pa’s allergic to fun.”

Stanford set Gompers down and got up. With a quick “Breakfast’s almost over,” Stanford brought his mostly empty plate to the trash can to clear off.

After breakfast clean-up, Grauntie Mabel summoned him and Gompers to her sticker-covered car. Farmer Sprott was unsurprised to see him. Instead, he set him in the goat pen with the rest of the others. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Reckon I’ll call you up if he goes missin’ again.”

“Thank you!”

“Bye, Gompers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrrr Get it? Cause they're gnomes? And they're short? I'm the best!
> 
> Hello, short chapter. :) I'm working on some Undertale stuff, so my Gravity Falls stuff (literally just this right now) is going to be a bit on the neglected side. Sorry about that. /shrug


	10. Déjà vu, Feeling of Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new, magical side of the forest has been discovered! With two monster findings under their belts, it's a wonder what the third will be.

Grauntie Mabel called them for a new activity. As the master of their camp looked over the crowd, she said, “Well! Today’s a wonderful day for a nice game of _‘Human Knot!’_ ” Human Knot, as she explained, was a game where everyone gathered in a circle and held the hands of the people neighboring the kids directly next to them. The rest of the game was spent trying to untangle each other without letting go. At the explanation of the game, Stanford began to feel queasy.

Stanford and Stanley were separated in this endeavor, as was every other friend group. So, people stood by those they rarely or never talked to. Stanford bit his tongue as people nearby him became hesitant to hold his hands. _“Not like I’m thrilled either,”_ he thought bitterly. Grauntie Mabel, Dan, and Janice checked to make sure they were together in a way that it was not impossible to untangle.

“Alright, on my call, try to find a way to untangle yourselves! Remember: be careful. Don’t tug on each other too hard and I don’t want any hurt fingers or wrists! Now, three… two… one… begin!”

Stanford looked over his section of the group and muttered to himself ways to complete this puzzle. Then, he moved his arms and tried to advise people near him on their next move. “Alright, you walk under our arms, uh on the left? Yeah, you. On the right, walk backward and move your arm this way.”

Finally, the kids were able to stand back in a giant circle. Grauntie Mabel, Dan, and Janice clapped. “Nice job!”

Though this exercise had taken a while, they switched up spots and started over. Once they’d completed it the second time–which was made more difficult by Stanley’s and Preston’s quiet bickering and refusal to follow each other’s directions–they were let go. Stanley and Stanford met up while the other kids dispersed.

Before Stanley could make a derogatory comment, Grauntie Mabel approached them. “Ford? Stan?”

The two looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“I’m not blind. I’m, well, kinda sorry. You’re a good kid–the both of you are good kids–and it breaks my heart.” She hesitated. “And I kinda think of these activities ahead of time.” Quite suddenly, she stopped talking and her eyes went round. “I have an idea! Alright, you two. You go have fun. And… if you need to…” She shrugged. “Go ahead and run around my house. Just don’t mess my stuff up, alright?” She grinned and got up. “Now I have stuff to do! Shoo!”

Stanley puffed out his chest. “Make me, old woman!”

“Make you, huh?” Grauntie Mabel’s smile turned into a devilish grin. “Well then, prepare for my… tickle attack!” She lunged at him and, as he evaded her the first time, he ran off. She didn’t chase the boys for long before they got back to camp, and she slowed to a stop.

Stanford laughed and shoved his brother. “You’re going to get us killed one day, you know that?”

“Pssh. I could take her,” Stanley scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I just didn’t feel like it.”

“Right,” Stanford shook his head and chuckled. “We have another hour or so before lunch. What do you want to do?”

“Explore Grauntie Mabel’s house?” Stanley prompted.

“I don’t see why not.”

So, the two boys turned their attention to the main cabin. As they expected, the place was lavishly decorated in homemade pictures and paintings with crafted frames. Animal themed decorations with a pink-purple color scheme ran rampant. Stanford poked his head inside of the kitchen, which was neatly made. “Do you think she ever uses her own kitchen during the summer?”

“Probably not. But she’s kinda weird so who knows?” Stanley waltzed up to the fridge and opened it. “Oooh!” he gasped. “Cookie dough!”

Stanford took him by the back of the shirt and dragged him back a few steps. “Yeah, no.”

“Spoilsport,” Stanley complained but backed off nonetheless. He looked at a stairwell nearby. “What do you think is up there?”

“In the attic?” Stanford prompted. “Mmm… boxes, storage, stuff like that.”

“You wanna check?”

“I don’t see why not.” Stanford followed Stanley up the stairs. The door to one of two rooms in the attic was cracked open. Inside… was filled with boxes and dusty objects. Stanley pouted. The second door was shut with a sign nailed to it. Painted on the sign in colorful, neat letters with a slight jitter to them were the words “CANDY’S ROOM”.

“Wait… ‘Candy’s Room’? Like, ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? Does she really live here?” Stanley prompted, cocking his head to the side.

Stanford looked at the sign. “Yeah, I guess so. You know, that handwriting looks very familiar.”

“Does it? Where?”

“Well… oh! That’s very close to Fiddleford’s handwriting. It’s definitely not the same, though. The hand isn’t as steady and there’s a bit more of an exaggeration to the loops like in the ‘C’ and ‘D’. Anyway, I don’t remember Grauntie Mabel telling us that her friend lived here.”

Stanley shrugged. “Me, neither.”

“It makes sense, though. She doesn’t have anywhere else to live.”

“I guess. Well, I’m bored. Let’s go open random doors!” Stanley took the stairs down two at a time, forcing Stanford to catch up.

By the time Stanley had scoped out a large, open room with a DJ station on one end, they had looked through all the rooms that interested them–save for Candy’s and Mabel’s rooms, which neither of them dared to enter. Stanford went to walk back into the hall but a bell ringing outside caused them to look back at the door. “Lunch, already?”

“Ugh, thankfully! I’m starving!”

 

Fiddleford, Hank, Nick, and Reginald were there before him. Fiddleford jumped at their approach. Nick and Reginald turned a sudden interest in their food and Hank sighed quietly. Stanley chuckled, “Ugh, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing!” Nick was quick to reply.

Hank shook his head. “Rumors.”

“Rumors?” Stanley echoed.

“Yep.”

“Ain’t the nicest ones,” Fiddleford mumbled.

Stanford looked to his friend. Stanley smirked. “Not nice rumors? Dude, we get that stuff told to our _faces_ where I live! What’s the word around camp? Are people thinking we’re some kind of disgusting aliens? Lizard people? One of us is a freak and the other’s an idiot?”

Nick shrugged. “Not exactly.”

Hank stated flatly, “You two–Stanford and Fiddleford–spend a lot of time alone and you three like to be in the forest. Fiddleford didn’t go on that bus ride and that goat keeps magically appearing by your side, Stanford. Your grandmother is clinically insane, and your great uncle was taken by aliens for all we know. So, of course rumors going to be floating around. Especially since two of you are super smart and the other’s super loud and snoopy.”

Nick winced. “I wouldn’t have said _that_ , really.”

“It’s the truth,” Hank admitted.

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Aw, don’t let them get you down, Fidds! So, what if people think we’re weird? We are! I’m not real sure Ford’s not crazy.”

Stanford elbowed him, causing the other kids to laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re cool.”

“Cooler than an ice cube.”

Fiddleford smiled. “Y-yeah. Thanks, Stan.” He looked down at his plate. Although he started to speak, he shut his mouth. _There’s more to that bus ride to the lake, isn’t there?_

After a short silence, Stanley piped up, “Hey! Who wants to hear about the time Ford and I nearly got eaten by a shark!” With great flair, and some–a lot of–exaggeration, Stanley told the tale of how he caught a _huge_ shark–who, for the record, was hardly a foot and a half long–and it nearly bit off Stanley’s hand–or just one or a few of his fingers–and Ford kicked it off the dock.

Nick gasped, “Did you really kick a shark in the face?”

Stanford nodded. “Mhm. Kicking a shark in the nose will make it let go of you. Besides, they’re not good on land.”

Stanley snickered. “Can you imagine if they were? Oh, man! We’d be in trouble!”

When prompted on telling another story, Stanley immediately went onto the one where he’d gotten _unrightfully_ stuck in the back of a police car when he was ten. He’d managed to grab the policeman’s ticket pad and wrote about eighty tickets of varying degrees of spite and ridiculousness before getting caught. He was charged with destruction of public property, but it was “worth it” when the judge had to read them all out loud.

Stanley turned to Fiddleford. “Do you have any really cool stories?”

“M-me? No, no not really.” Fiddleford smiled. “Ah mean, most a’ the stories Ah know are bedtime stories or made up or somethin’.”

This time, it was Nick who asked, “Why? Do you have little brothers or something?”

“No, but Ah do have a buncha little cousins or kids Ah’d help babysit. Little ones can be hard ta be around if they’re grumpy or bored, ya know.”

Just then, the call for lunch to be over was given.

 

Grauntie Mabel met them all in the front yard. Stanford had to tug Stanley away from a small pile of pennies near the porch.

“Alright, kiddos! This is a sorta treasure hunt. It’s called ‘Barnyard Hunt’! Basically, we’ve spread about four types of coins: pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters! You’ll be split into four teams of six. From there, you’ll all be assigned a team animal. Like a chicken or a pig. You’ll have one leader on each team. All six of you will look around this yard–only this yard, there isn’t anything in the forest or on the porch or anything–but only the leader can grab the money. The other five have to make the sound of their group animal!” She chuckled to herself. “It sounds ridiculous, and it is, but it’s fun! Remember that I know how much money I put out there. I don’t want any to find their way into some of your pockets. Got it?” She sent a pointed look at Stanley, who held his hands in front of him with a grin.

“Yes, Mrs. Pines.”

“Great! Split into four teams, then.” Dan and Janice helped them separate, sometimes switching people around or moving the teams farther apart. Stanford and Stanley were on opposing teams.

Dan stopped by Stanford’s team. “Alright, what animal do you guys want to pick?”

Stanford stated immediately, “Goat.”

“Goat? Okay, cool. Any objections?”

Bud countered, “I think a pig would be more fun.”

“Let’s put it to a vote! Goat? Four. Alright, goat wins. Who’s team leader?”

The kids looked at each other. Finally, Darlene piped up, “I think I can be a leader.”

“Darlene! Good! Any objections? No? Alright, you’re Team Goat and you guys are looking for dimes.”

 Dan moved to the next group. Janice left Preston’s group to go onto Stanley’s. Eventually, Dan and Janice made their way back to Grauntie Mabel.

“Okay, kids! On three! One… two… three!”

Darlene turned to them. “Alright. I’ll go to the porch. Emma, you’re near the bathroom. Reg, you’re going next to him. Bud, you’re near the totem pole. Pris, you go next to Bud, near the forest. Ford, you’re opposite of me by the forest. We’ll work our way in, alright? Let’s go!” Their team scattered.

Stanford knelt and scanned the ground, ruffling the grass with his fingers and concentrating completely on the ground. Distantly, he heard different kids making weird sounds and giggling or gasping as they came across something they needed. He shut them out and instead focused on the task assigned to him.

He jumped as Darlene tapped his shoulder. “Stanford?”

Stanford looked up. “Yeah?”

“Where’s the dime you were talking about?”

“What dime?”

“You bleated and–”

_Baaaa!_

Stanford perked up. “That wasn’t me, Darlene.”

Darlene rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Very funny! If this is a prank, I’ll kick you into next week!”

Stanford got up and approached the source of the noise with her. Tangled up in a briar bush near the edge of the yard, just inside of the forest, was a one-horned goat without a collar. Gompers waved his legs and bleated. “Gompers?”

“Is that the goat Mrs. Pines brought to the farm, this morning?”

Stanford nodded. “Okay, Gompers. I’ll get you out of here.” He untangled the briar vines around him–getting pricked and cut as he went–before he could safely lift Gompers out of the bush. Despite having gotten tangled up in it so badly his hooves couldn’t touch the ground, he wasn’t bleeding or missing any patches of fur. In fact, he fell asleep in his arms. “He’s not hurt…”

“What? You think he’s some sort of forest spirit?” Darlene chuckled. “Well, call me if you find anything.” She turned around and ran off.

 _“Yes, actually, I do.”_ Stanford walked back into the clearing, set Gompers down, and resumed his search. The baby goat watched him intently. When Stanford knelt to look through a spot where he saw a gleam, Gompers hopped onto his back and balanced on the boy’s shoulders. Stanford laughed and shook him off. “Gompers, stop that!”

The baby goat bounced around him and, any time Stanford bent down to look at something, he’d jump onto the boy’s shoulders. Eventually, Stanford was able to find a dime. He picked up Gompers and held him up. _Baaa!_

Darlene looked up from she’d been looking near the center, giggled, and ran up to them. “Not a false alarm this time?”

“Nope!” Stanford set Gompers back down. Darlene snatched up the dime and, as someone else called, ran back to them.

All in all, Stanford only found two dimes. When Grauntie Mabel blew the whistle, they found Team Rooster, led by Preston, to have the most, seconded by Team Goat with Stanford, Team Donkey lead by Stanley, and then Team Cat lead by Susan. Very few coins were actually missing, with Team Cat missing two, Team Horse missing one, and Team Rooster finding all of their coins just before Team Goat.

When they were dismissed–after Stanley calling Preston a chicken, Preston calling him an ass, and then Grauntie Mabel getting onto Stanley about keeping a few quarters–Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford headed up to their cabin. Stanford didn’t look back, but he did feel Grauntie Mabel’s gaze on him. However, he wasn’t called nor was he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, only a goat today! Haha Gompers is a persistent little guy, isn't he?
> 
> So, if you haven't noticed from the new-fangled bottom post, I'm only updating on Tuesdays, now.


	11. An Hour to Think of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like things are heating up this summer...

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!”

The next morning, Stanley woke up earlier, hopped out of bed, and rushed into the bathroom before Preston. Sighing at the fight-to-be, Stanford took out his journal and started looking at it.

Preston pushed past Stanley on his way out, leaving Stanford and Fiddleford to wait for him.

Stanford sat down. “I don’t know how he keeps finding me. But I’m certain he’s magic.”

“Really? Why?”

“Look at him! He was tangled up in a bramble bush and there’s not one scratch on him or missing tuft of fur. Look at me! I was getting him out and I’m scratched up!” He held up his hand, baring multiple mostly-healed cuts that hadn’t bled with a few bandages given to him by Dan.

“That’s pretty weird,” Fiddleford agreed, watching as the goat munched on the grass beneath the table. “Mrs. Pines said magic didn’t exist, but we say the signs alright.”

“Oh! That reminds me. Fiddleford? Do you know anything about goats?”

Fiddleford blinked. “Goats? Well, Ah lived on a hog farm, but we raised a few milk goats. Why?”

“Well, Gompers has horns. But I’ve seen goats without them. Is that like a special breed or something?” Stanford prompted.

“Nope. All goats have horns. Some goats are budded as kids. They take away the horns before they can start growin’. So, they grow up without horns,” Fiddleford informed him.

“Like declawing a cat?”

“Not necessarily. Cats need their claws. Goats are better off without them. Well, Ah mean, every person down ma road has a different opinion about it. But Ah think they’re better off without horns. No chance of roughin’ up another goat too bad, harder to get stuck in fences, and an awful lot harder to bully other goats without ’em.”

“Oh okay.” Stanford lifted his arm as Gompers hopped onto his lap and bleated. He laughed and stroked Gompers’ back.

“It’s too bad. Gompers really seems ta like you.”

“Yeah.” Stanford frowned and went back to his breakfast. “I like him, too.”

As Stanley put his stuff from breakfast away, he tripped Preston. As the kids helped clean up, Bud threw a piece of trash at the back of Stanley’s head. Preston seemed to be helping inflate the rumors about them as he would whisper to people who nonchalantly went to talk to their other friends. Stanford glared at him but didn’t give him the petty satisfaction of a retort. Grauntie Mabel started to take Gompers, then “realized she had other things she had to do first” and instead let Gompers stay in the house while they were doing activities and let him back out when they weren’t busy.

As the day passed, the rival room-mates didn’t see each other often. They stayed in their respective parts of camp–Preston’s being with his posse in the north and the Stan twins with Fiddleford by the cabins or sheds.

Stanley grumbled as he leaned on the side of the cabin, arms crossed, “Preston’s been too quiet today.”

“Maybe he’s got better things to do than constantly think about you.”

“Don’t say that! Preston’s a jerk and I know he’s trying to get everyone against us,” Stanley huffed.

“Or, maybe not. Perhaps Preston really is just spendin’ time with his friends,” Fiddleford offered as he changed a lightbulb Grauntie Mabel gave him permission to change. “He doesn’t seem like the kind sort, but he’s jus’ a kid. Not much he can do, right?”

Stanley hard glare at his feet softened a bit. “Yeah, ’guess you’re right. Still, something feels wrong about this. Like he’s planning somethin’ bad.”

“Well, it’s best ta stay cautious. Jus’ don’t let it consume yer whole summer.”

Stanford nodded. “That’s sound advice.”

“Thanks!”

Dinner came and went as did the campfire stories. Stanley and Stanford got to sit closer to Fiddleford as he switched seats with his grandmother.

 

_Baaa_ _._

Stanford blinked open his bleary eyes. Gompers sat on his chest and bleated again. “Gompers? What is it?” Stanford whispered and looked out the window at the barely dawn light. “It’s before morning.” Gompers hopped off him, nudged him, and then hopped off the bed.

Stanford sat up and looked at him. Gompers hopped to the door. With a short sigh, Stanford slipped off his bed and, passing up his shoes, opened the door. Gompers darted out the door and bleated again, this time at a much higher volume. A few yelps signaled the presence of other children. Stanford gasped and raced outside. Two figures ran off, melting into the shadows before he could get a proper look at them. They dropped a few cans of spray-paint as they went.

Stanford picked one up and looked at it. “What the…?”  He turned back to the side of their cabin. His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open as he saw the defaced side of Cabin Three.

 

“ALRIGHT, KIDS! TIME TO GET UP!” Grauntie Mabel’s voice was _very_ loud. She stood where Mr. Poolcheck normally would. Stanford stood by her side, Gompers at his feet. After a short silence, she continued, “GET OUT HERE, PLEASE!”

Kids, even the teens, walked out to the front, blearily eyed and dragging their feet. Mr. Poolcheck marched out into the grounds, hesitated when he saw the creator of the Camp, and then turned back and walked to town. Grauntie Mabel’s arms were crossed, and she looked over the crowd. Although she wasn’t glaring, there was no way her expression held a happiness of any sort. Stanford, hands behind himself, looked at the people that gathered. Stanford dipped his head and joined his brother and best friend.

As the crowd settled down from their muttering and yawning, Grauntie Mabel started, “Good morning! I know it’s early and it’s before breakfast. But today is going to be different. There’s a fine line between a harmless prank and bullying. Now, can anyone tell me who graffitied the side of Cabin Three?”

Confused, the kids–even the teens–looked at Cabin Three. In bold pink spray-paint was the word “MCSUCKIT!” on the side of the building, somehow spreading from the left side up to the door. Fiddleford’s eyes went wide and he immediately turned a sad shade of pink and Stanley tensed, turning his glower to the crowd–more specifically, his room-mate and Preston’s friends. Fiddleford, as he heard the muttering ranging from negative to positive, flinched and blushed a deeper shade of red. Dan set a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Now, two kids ran off this morning. Would the two who did this please come forward?”

…

“No one? Well, I was planning a treasure hunt in the woods, maybe spend some time out in the town. But I can’t reward bullies. So, if the two who did this don’t step forward in the next five seconds, everyone here–yes you, too, counselors–will be doing community service in the town all day, excluding lunch at the civic center.” Gasps and groans rumbled through their ranks. “Also, excluding Cabin Three.”

“Holy crap,” Stanley whispered. “She’s… she’s serious.”

Stanford nodded. “She’s never done that before.”

Grauntie Mabel held up her hand. “Five… four… three… two… one. No one? Still? Alright. Get ready for the day. After breakfast, we go to town.” She lowered her voice and turned her attention to Fiddleford, who was at the front of the crowd half-hiding behind Stanford and Stanley. “Fiddleford, you can come back to my cabin for a little bit. I’ll get someone to help wash it off.”

“I-it’s alright, Ma’am. Ah can do it. Ah don’t want ta be a bother.”

When they got to the cabin, Stanley turned on Preston, “What the hell, man?!”

“Wasn’t me,” Preston stated coolly. “I was here all night.”

“Two of your goons did it, I know!”

“And what makes you think that?” Preston inquired.

“You’re spreadin’ rumors about him.” Stanley crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That ridiculous hillbilly does it on his own.”

Dan stated in a loud, commanding voice. “Stop it.” He stepped between them to stand in front of the bathroom. “He was asleep here, Stanley. Preston, if you _did_ do it, that was very, _very_ wrong of you. If you two throw one more nasty word at each other, I’m asking to send us to town with everyone else.”

Preston and Stanley threw dark glances at one another but stayed quiet. Dan nodded and went into the bathroom.

Once water from the sink started running, Stanley rounded on Preston. “I know your friends had something to do with this!”

Preston smirked. “And what do you care? You really should have listened to other kids when you had the chance. Befriending that hillbilly was a pretty stupid idea.”

Stanford clutched Stanley’s arm. “No! Stanley, he’s just short of asking you to punch him. You know what’ll happen if you hit him.”

“He’ll deserve it,” Stanley growled, not taking his eyes off Preston. When Dan left, Preston walked into the bathroom.

Stanford wandered over to Fiddleford, who was in his bed, knees to his chest and back to the rest of the cabin. “Hey, Fidds?”

“Yeah?”

“It doesn’t matter what they say,” Stanford stated. “You’re our friend.”

Fiddleford nodded. After taking a deep breath, and coughing to clear his throat, Fiddleford said, “Thanks, Ford.”

Stanford rested his head in his hands and arms on the lip of Fiddleford’s bed. “I have some books we can look over, you know. Your blueprints are _really_ good. I have some ideas, but machines weren’t ever my strong suit. I bet if we work together, we could make something really good.”

Fiddleford chuckled but didn’t turn away from the wall. “Y-yeah. That’d be nice.”

Once Preston left, Stanford pushed his brother into the bathroom.

Then, Stanley ran out the door with a quick, “I’ll be back!”

Stanford tried to shoo Fiddleford in first–as breakfast time was approaching rapidly since Preston took his sweet time–but the boy waved him off.

Once it was time for breakfast–even a little past as Stanford waited for his brother–he joined Dan in leaving. Fiddleford was at their table, but he propped his head up with one hand and pawed at his food. Stanford stopped by the adult’s table. “Hey, Grauntie Mabel?”

Grauntie Mabel broke off her conversation with “Old Woman” Chiu and “Growling” Grenda. “Yeah, Fordsy?”

“Uh, will you guys be here today, or will you be going to town?”

“I’ll have to stay here. Dan already asked for Preston and Stanley, but he never said anything about you. Do you _want_ to go?”

“No, no. It’s just… Stanley’s pretty upset,” Stanford started slowly. “And, I mean, he’s a smart guy. I don’t care what anyone says. He has a short temper, but he’s really smart and he’d never do anything to get himself thrown out. But I just want you to know if he, uh, punches someone in the face or something, it’s because they did something wrong to someone. He does that at school, too.”

Grauntie Mabel sighed. “I’m sorry, Ford. I love Stan, but I can’t show him any special treatment. He shouldn’t take the law into his own hands. He’s not exactly a policeman, you know?”

“I know. But, I just want you to know that he’s not being malicious just because he can be. Pa sometimes takes it the wrong way if I don’t explain it beforehand, so I thought I would.”

“You don’t need to explain anything for your brother, Ford. He’s a good kid, you both are. Trust me, I’m a good judge of character. And a good person doesn’t attack people weaker than him. He helps them.” She tipped her head to their table, which only had Fiddleford in it so far. He still hadn’t eaten anything. “He needs the help, alright?”

Stanford nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Grauntie.”

“No problem, Ford. Now get eating! You’ll need it.”

Stanford smiled and walked to his table. Fiddleford didn’t look up at his approach. Stanford began on his own breakfast. “Um… our cabin’ll be out all day, you know. But we’re staying here.”

“You, too?” Fiddleford asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” Stanford shrugged. “I didn’t fight with Preston.”

Eventually, as breakfast wound to an end, Stanley came tromping back and plopped down next to him. He didn’t have a plate of food. In fact, Maria was no longer at her station, having given out food to the rest of camper fifteen minutes prior. Stanford sighed and pushed his half-eaten plate–wait, didn’t he eat more than that?–to Stanley, who happily scarfed it down. “Where’ve you been?”

Stanley finished his breakfast and smiled smugly. “You’ll see.”

Fiddleford looked down at his half-eaten breakfast and then pushed it toward Stanley. “Ya didn’t have much today, did ya?”

“Thanks, dude!” Stanley laughed.

 

Stanford left Gompers at the main cabin with the promise to be back. Then, he hesitated and brought him outside. “Gompers, if you’re some sort of spirit animal and you can understand me: make sure no one else tries to attack Fiddleford, alright?” Gompers bleated. Stanford nodded. “I hope you understood me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Gompers. Hopefully, you won’t need to protect him, right?” With one last pat on the head, Stanford caught up to Stanley. As he looked back at the cabin, he paused. The “S” and “I” had been scribbled out in blue spray paint and replaced by a “G” and “E”. “ROCKS!” had been painted under that. Stanford glanced at his brother, who grinned and held his blue-stained fingers behind his back.

After saying goodbye to his brother as he left on the bus, Stanford made it back to their cabin. Fiddleford had taken out a notebook full of sketches and a few empty blueprints.

*          *          *          *          *

When they got to town, they found that the teens had different work ethics. Janice commanded her cabin to work hard so she didn’t have to. Dan and Tyrone were hard-working individuals who encouraged their cabins to work hard, too. Despite being work that they didn’t like doing, Stanley found a way to turn it into a game. By turning it into a game, it was seeing how much he could push onto Preston without the rich snob knowing.

At lunchtime, they were herded to the civic center with packed lunches brought on the bus. Stanley gave a sideways glare to Preston as he, Jessie, Bud, and their newest stray, Ivan, sat as far away from them as possible. “We need to do something. Humiliate them somehow without getting put to work again.”

“How do you expect to do that?” Hank prompted.

“Well… a game of some sort,” Stanley replied, drumming his finger on the table. He narrowed his eyes and stared down at the wood. “Need to do something that will definitely make Preston play along, whether he likes it or not. Then, I have to beat him and get him to do something humiliating. Then, Grauntie Mabel can’t get onto us because it’s something we can legally do! …but what?”

“That’s not a good idea,” Hank stated. “Revenge isn’t a good idea. Nick and I aren’t a part of this.”

Nick shrugged. “It is against bullies! How about a card game? You’re good at cards, right?”

“True! Very true!” Stanley grinned and took a bite of his sandwich. “I’m gonna have to think of a good punishment for him.”

“If you lose?”

“Pfft. Who could defeat me?”

 

That afternoon, Stanley scribbled down his challenge and chucked it at Preston. It smacked him in the back of the head. He turned around and snarled at Stanley while Bud read the note to him. Preston glanced at Bud, then at Stanley. After a short mutter, Preston nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call back to the original show. Dumb teens. :P Oh well. I set in motion one of my funnier scenes.


	12. Card Night

Indeed, it was getting dark by the time they got back. It was dark, and many complained to themselves of food and the necessity of baths.

Stanford and Fiddleford both had spent a while cleaning off the side of the cabin. Stanley’s correction had helped put a smile on the sad boy’s face. But what had really gotten him to talk and go so far as to laugh and go off on a subject with a grand smile and stars in his eyes were the plans he’d scribbled down for different robots and machines. Stanford concentrated on learning all he could. His friend’s infectious enthusiasm helped out quite a bit.

Fiddleford and Stanford settled down beside the exhausted kids at their table.

Stanley piped up, “Ford, Fidds! We’re playing cards against Preston and his bunch. Wanna join us?”

“Stanley…” Stanford groaned.

Fiddleford perked up. “Oh! Uh, okay. What game?”

“Poker.”

“Ahh. Well, Ah’m not too good at that game…”

“It’s okay. You can be moral support. And there to show them you aren’t gonna stay down after they kicked you, right?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Ah will.”

 

Stanley and Preston sat across from each other on one of the worn benches within a large tent, their friends on either side of them. Tyler, a neutral party to either of them with a video camera around his neck, shuffled the cards. Preston leaned on the round table inside of the craft’s building, his gaze sweeping over the three opposite him as well as Jessie and Bud. “Alright, nerd. I read your rules. But how about I sweeten the deal: Loser and his partner takes the punishment.”

Stanford looked to his brother and hissed, “What punishment, exactly?”

“Deal!” Stanley slapped the table. “Ford’s my partner.” He muttered, “I’ll tell you later.”

Bud and Preston looked at each other. Preston smiled and turned to Stanley. “Of course Bud is my partner!” he agreed smoothly.

Stanley said loudly, “Then is it a deal?”

“Deal!” Preston agreed.

“What’s a deal?”

The boys turned to see three girls by the table, their bright eyes looking at them. The one in lead smiled sweetly, her purplish brown hair was brushed over her head and fell over her shoulders in large curls. Susan held a sweet smile and looked between the boys with the innocence of a litter of kittens.

Stanley sat up straight. “Oh, nothin’. I’m just gonna beat these bullies at a game of poker.”

“Oh! A card game!” Her eyes lit up. “Can I play?”

“Yeeeah!” The blonde girl next to her, Darlene, agreed, her dark eyes concentrated on Stanley. “Let her plaaaay. She’s really good.”

Carly looked at Gompers and cooed. “Oh! You brought your goat! He’s adorable!” _Baaa!_

Stanley shrugged. “I dunno… this was a game between us and these bullies.”

The third girl, a brunette with creamy brown hair, dug through her purse and set down a twenty-dollar bill. Priscilla looked at her friends. “I can do that right? Do you put down bets to start a game?”

“That’s a twenty, dawrling,” Darlene pointed out.

“Oh. Whoops.”

Stanley’s eyes lit up. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. “Actually, sure. What do you guys think?”

Stanford shifted in his chair. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Yeah,” Fiddleford agreed. “They don’t even know the terms.”

Susan sat down. “Okay. Tell us the terms, then.”

Stanley shrugged. “Well, the deal is: everyone throws into the pot, first. Winner takes all. Loser and his partner strip down and jump in the lake tonight. Winners get to watch. No limit on who’s invited, but no staff and not a word to Grauntie Mabel.”

Stanford hissed, “ _Seriously?!_ ”

Priscilla prompted, “ _Both_ losers?”

Darlene gasped, “ _Priscilla!_ ”

Priscilla giggled. “I’m bein’ curious here, Pris!”

Stanley nodded. “Sounds fair. What do you think?”

Preston nodded. “Fair enough.”

Stanford sighed. Stanley _was_ good with cards–even though most of his tactics relied on cheating. “I would really recommend against it, but sure.”

“Sweet! Deal me in. Darlene? Are you my partner? Great! But first…” She unclipped the kitten earrings she wore and set them down on the twenty. “Darlene?”

Darlene sighed and fished through her pocket. She set down a spider charm. “There’s my cawntribution. Win us the pawt, Susan.” She looked up at Tyler, who held the video camera at ready. “Take a good video for us.”

Preston started to set down a ten. But, when the girls gave him curious looks–and Priscilla looked down at her own contribution–Preston huffed and set down two tens. Bud put down a signed photo of his father. Jessie was eager to throw in a plushy key-chain, which gained some coos from the girls. Stanley contributed an action figure. Fiddleford slowly drew out a playing card and Stanford threw in a figurine from his DD&MD board game.

 Through the game, more was added as the boys tried to out bet each other and the girls attempted to keep up. At times, the girls would mutter rapidly to one another. Fiddleford and Stanford stayed quiet for the most part, using only short hand signals under the table. Jessie, borderline bored, looked over the table. Bud seemed way too entranced by Preston’s play.

By the end of the game, Preston and Priscilla had put down fifty dollars each. Susan set down a copy of “Wolf Man, Bare Chest” along with an age-inappropriate magazine. Darlene took off her dreamcatcher earrings and another charm from her bracelet. Stanley put down a monster action figure and a couple of fancy, homemade lockpicks. Bud put down a brush and mirror, both from the Tent o’ Telepathy. Jessie contributed a fancy comb and hat. Stanford put down another character and one of his fancy pens. Fiddleford set down a playing card that matched the one he’d put down earlier.

Now, Preston stated, “The end!”

“Great!” Stanley purred.

Susan nodded, her face devoid of emotion. “Now, how much did you beat us by, Preston?”

Smiling, Preston set down his hand. “Three aces, two kings.”

Stanley snickered. “Oh, man. That’s good, but not good enough. Straight flush.” Preston’s smile dropped immediately.

Susan’s grin returned, and she chuckled, “Sorry, boys. I heard the lake water’s cold.” She set down her cards. “Royal flush, your majesty.”

Dead silence fell over the table.

Stanley tore off his visor and slapped it on the table. _“Tirate a un poso, Bruja!”_ Fiddleford groaned and set his face in his hands.

Priscilla giggled and dragged their earnings up to themselves. “Thank you for playing.”

“You boys made a fun hour,” Darlene agreed, putting her dreamcatcher earrings and charms back on.

Susan took out Fiddleford’s cards and set them down. “We don’t need these, but thanks!” Then, she stood up and put her cards on the deck. “See you later boys. Oh, do tell us next time you’re playing.” With that, the trio high-fived each other and walked off. They were immediately confronted by the rest of the female campers. Priscilla waved Preston’s money and Darlene held up the large purse with the rest of their earnings. “Party’s on us, ladies!”

Stanley snarled at them as they left. “Girls! I _swear!_ ”

“Ah told ya not ta listen,” Fiddleford pointed out with a sigh. “Girls are more cunning than they let you on ta think.”

“Girls are lousy players, anyway,” Preston sniffed. “She probably cheated.”

“She definitely cheated,” Stanley growled.

“You cheated,” Stanford pointed out.

“So? It’s the aim of the game!”

Stanford stood up. “Then don’t get mad at losing.”

Tyler lowered his camera and walked out. “I’ll send you links to the final video when I upload it.”

Fiddleford called, “Thank ya!’

“You lost, Hillbilly!” Preston hissed. “That’s not a good thing. Or are you too dumb to realize that?”

“Ah know we lost,” Fiddleford stated simply. “Ah’ve just accepted it.”

 

After the campfire died down, kids snuck away from camp and to the lake. The kids from the card game were there, but so were a few extra girls, Tyler, and some kids from town. Preston hissed to Bud. “Girls are a plague on this planet.”

Bud nodded. “Yeah.”

Stanley clicked his tongue and shot a finger gun at Susan, who giggled and elbowed Darlene. Darlene whispered something back, causing Susan, Priscilla, and Carly to laugh with her.

Stanford sighed. “This was a mistake and a half.”

“I dunno. At least the girls are cute.”

Stanford rolled his eyes and looked at Fiddleford. “Tyler doesn’t have a camera, does he?”

“Ah told him not ta bring one,” Fiddleford answered. “An’ Ah don’t see one.”

“Good.”

“We’ll only have memories,” Stanley agreed.

“You are way too enthusiastic about this!”

Darlene yelled, “Come awn, boys, we don’t have awll night!” A few others spoke up in agreement.

A few whistles and whispers about the girls came in reciprocation as Stanley, ever the bravest, was the first to take off his uniform. Stanley was the first to jump in the lake, grabbing Preston’s ankle as he went. Poor Bud struggled to get back to the surface as the two other natural swimmers and his pool-swimmer friend was able to outswim him.

Fiddleford watched the docks and then the small audience that had appeared, arms crossed behind his back. Gompers sat by his feet, idly munching on some grass he’d uprooted. Susan strolled up to him and set her elbow on his shoulder. “So, Tennessee, eh?”

“You’re not from around here!” Carly agreed.

Fiddleford’s gaze flicked about the four girls as they’d descended on him like a pack of wolves. “Yeah,” he replied, his prepubescent voice a squeak.

Darlene cooed, “Don’t be like that! We won’t hurt you!”

Priscilla looked at the lake. “Mhm. Not you.”

Susan nodded. “You know, you’re pretty cute for a redneck.”

Carly nodded. “I really like your accent. Does everyone speak like that?”

“Uh-uh-uh, th-thanks? A-and everyone from ma road does, yeah.”

“You’re shy!” Susan chuckled. “Darlene?”

Darlene took a deep breath and whistled, catching the attention of everyone–even those in the lake.

Susan raised her voice. “Alright, girls! Show’s over! Back to your cabins!” The girls and town kids sighed but moved on nonetheless.

Fiddleford looked at them and then Susan. “Why’d ya do that?”

“We’re not cruel,” Susan reassured him. “I just wanted those bullies to taste lake water.”

Darlene piped up, “And Stanley to learn not to bet what he can’t take.”

Carly looked at her nails. “And to show people we’re in charge.”

Priscilla giggled as she saw Preston stick by the docks. “And to see Preston.”

_“Priscilla!”_ the other girls gasped, causing her to laugh and blush more deeply.

Darlene warned, “I will push you into that lake!”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Priscilla shrugged, warranting some light-hearted scolding laced with laughter from Darlene and Carly.

Susan turned back to Fiddleford. “Anyway, as I was saying, we live here. Well, Darlene lives west of here, about a day. Anyway, I thought you might like to know. We won’t hurt you like Preston did.” She smirked. “When the authorities can’t do something, we do.”

Fiddleford thought for a moment. “L-like some sorta vigilante group?”

Susan purred, “Just like that!”

Stanley got onto the dock and started fitting his clothes back on. He helped Stanford up, who did the same. “Hey, girls! Fidds! What’s up?” His smile was lost when he saw how close the four were to Fiddleford.

Susan backed off, hands behind her back. “Oh, nothing. You should dry off and get back to the camp. You need sleep. You, too, Southerner. Darlene?”

Darlene whistled again, gaining the attention of Preston and Bud as well.

Susan went on, “Five more minutes. Then we’re leaving. You boys better beat us there.”

Preston growled, fingers on the lip of the dock, hair in his eyes. “Yeah? We’re out late, you’re out late! You’d get in just as much of trouble as us.”

Susan blinked. “We’re not talking about the staff. That was part of the deal, remember?”

Stanley nodded and sloshed off, his feet leaving a heavy trail behind him. Stanford stayed at his side and with Gompers at heel and Fiddleford beside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this scene for a while! Haha...
> 
> Funilly enough, this scene sparked the creation of this fanfiction!


	13. Dunked On

“Today’s special is a team-work game!” Grauntie Mabel announced as they gathered in the “party room”, the largest room in Grauntie Mabel’s cabin with the DJ station in the top corner. Three square tables had been set in in a row lengthwise with another row of three tables a few feet away. Four tall stacks of red plastic cups were on all three tables in the south, and five various nyarf guns and piles of ammo were on each table opposite. Long trails of tape made a line just outside of the cup-tables and another just outside of the nyarf-tables to leave a clear space in the center. “Now, this game is about your cabin working together against another cabin. Cabin Three, over here! Cabin C, over there!” Grauntie Mabel stood by the first table with the nyarf guns.

Stanley, Stanford, Fiddleford, Preston, and Dan walked up to her. Each nyarf gun was different, one being a “machine” gun, the other a shotgun, the third a sniper rifle, the fourth a blaster, and then the fifth a regular nyarf gun. Susan, Darlene, Carly, Priscilla, and Janice stepped up to the first table of cups, opposite the boys.

“The aim of the game is to stack the cups as far up as you can in three minutes,” Grauntie Mabel explained, gesturing to the table. “Any cups that fall on the ground cannot be used anymore. _Your_ aim is to shoot them down. Stop firing and stop building after three minutes is up. No one passes over the lines. The goal is to work as a team. Everyone will have a chance to build and everyone will have a chance to shoot. Shoot your opponents’ cups, not anyone else’s! Cabin Two, Cabin B over here! Cabin One, Cabin A on the third! Take a few minutes to strategize. We start when I call and stop by the buzzer!”

Dan got first to pick with the blaster. Stanley immediately took the shotgun, leaving Stanford with the sniper rifle, Preston with the machine gun, and Fiddleford with the regular one. As they spotted the girls huddled together, Dan turned to his team. “Alright, strategy. I’ve known Janice since before we could walk. She’s terrible at building things but great at knocking them down, and even better at competition.”

Preston scoffed, “Those girls are cheaters.”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “That was at cards, Preston. Anyway, we should be aiming for the sides of the cup, perhaps the top. That will cause them to spin off and hit other cups if we’re lucky. Hitting it on the side of the pyramid, if we can, is best. But if the pyramid faces us, hit the lower-middle, but perhaps not the bottom.”

“Good plan,” Dan agreed. “We’ll need to coordinate so we’re not in each other’s way. I’ll stay in the back. Fiddleford: you’re in front of Preston. Stanley and Stanford: you’re next to each other. But stay within reach of the table. Any other suggestions?”

“Reloading,” Stanley stated. “We can’t let them have a break. Preston’s looks like it’s gonna be difficult to reload.”

“I could do it,” Preston scoffed.

“Yeah, right.”

Dan nodded. “He has a point, Preston. Alright, half of us shoot until we’re out. Then, while we reload, the other half shoots. Fiddleford, you’ve got the lowest ammo but quickest reload, so you shoot continuously. No one shoots until they have at least two cups stacked on top of each other. Got it?”

“Got it!”

Grauntie Mabel yelled, “Start!”

Teams immediately went to work. Janice stood on the side closest to them, her eyes constantly darting toward them. The rest of the girls concentrated on putting the cups down to cover the table before starting to stack them. Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford started shooting. Janice held her hand out, blocking key points to large ones. When the Stan twins ran out of ammo, Dan and Preston began shooting and the twins reloaded.

Janice swore as she was hit in the face, warranting a light chastising from Grauntie Mabel over language. “Stop hitting me, nerds!” Janice hissed as another bullet “accidentally” caught her cheek.

Stanley called back, “I’m just hitting cups! Don’t blame me!”

“I know it was you!”

“Prove it!”

Grauntie Mabel yelled, “One minute left!”

Dan stated, “Ignore Carly’s side, they’re not going anywhere high!”

“Darlene’s side is eight cups tall already!” Stanford gasped. Indeed, as Carly and Priscilla stacked up the cups in two-width pyramid, Susan and Darlene made a pyramid with three on the base, two on the second layer, and then one cup on top of the other alternating each end.

Preston shot at the base. Unfortunately, most of his bullets were deflected by Janice, who held her hand out to catch the little foam balls. Stanley shot at the top, causing the top one and three under it to fall before Susan could hold it together.

Susan called back, a nyarf bullet in her fingers. “Hey! Are you running out of ammo?”

Stanley shot at the pyramid again. “Haha! Not fooling me with that one!”

Fiddleford reloaded his own gun. “Um, Stanley? She’s right.”

“Huh?” Stanley looked down at their table. Indeed, Fiddleford picked up the last nyarf bullet. Only a few foam balls were left for Preston’s weapon, which was being reloaded now.

_BZZZZZZZZ! Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

“Pencils down, everyone!” Grauntie Mabel called. Everyone put down the cups and guns they’d been holding. “Count up your cups, ladies. Counselors, be honest with your score.”

Dan took out his own notepad and scribbled something down. “Both counselors keep score sheets,” he explained before any of them could ask.

“Now, put your stuff up and switch-a-roo!”

After they collected the bullets and the cups–and the girls got to load their weapons of choice, they waited by their tables. Dan spoke up, “Alright, let’s see. I liked their double-width pyramid. It’s stronger.”

Stanford leveled his hand. “Maybe, but they were doing that as a distraction.”

Stanley pointed out, “Yeah? Well, they’ll definitely know if we do the whole ‘one cup on top of the other’ trick like them.”

Fiddleford piped up, “Why don’t we do that, but at the end? Make ’em think we’re makin’ a pyramid, then surprise ’em at the end?”

Dan nodded. “Sounds good. Alright, I’ll stay at the front this time and concentrate on deflecting bullets. Stan and Ford, you work on the left. Preston and Fiddleford, you work on the right. Stanley, you’re in front. Fiddleford, you’re in the back. Deflect if you want to, but you need to concentrate on building up those cups. Especially since they got seven last time.”

Grauntie Mabel yelled, “Begin!”

As soon as their first layer was made, they heard Janice speak. “FIRE!”

Stanley winced as he was shot in the side of the head. “Are they all shooting at once?”

“Looks like it!” Stanford agreed, picking up cups two at a time. “Give us a break every few seconds when they run out.”

“No,” Fiddleford replied. “They just did an initial fire. Carly and Susan aren’t firin’ anymore.”

Preston huffed, “Well good on them. We’re still beating them.”

“You don’t need to concentrate on them,” Dan pointed out. “I’ll do that. Janice!” He called. “Stop shooting _me_ , would you?”

“You’re in the way! I can’t help it!” Janice called back. She cackled as a nyarf bullet stuck to Dan’s jaw.

“One minute!”

Dan commanded in a whisper, “Okay, start on the tower!”

Once they got eight cups high, all of the girls, save for Janice, shot at the base of it, causing them to fall on Preston and Fiddleford. Stanley snickered at this, causing Preston to hiss, “Shut up! I’m on your team!”

“Funny’s funny, dude! Ow!” Stanley yelped as he was hit on the side of the face by Susan’s nyarf sniper bullet. “Hey!”

“Whoops! Thought your face was a cup there for a second!” She shot him again.

_BZZZZZZZZ! Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

“Pencils down, everyone!” Grauntie Mabel called. Everyone put down the cups and guns they’d been holding. “Count up your cups, boys. Counselors, be honest with your score.”

Stanley looked at the tower. “Seven. Two out of three, Gr–Mrs. Pines?”

“That’s the plan, bucko!” Grauntie Mabel called back.

The third round they played… was an utter terror. Halfway through, Stanley’s nyarf shotgun stopped working. The twins switched so that Stanford could look over it. Darlene had managed to cause enough of a distraction with Susan to allow Priscilla and Carly to remake their giant tower. No matter how much they tried, Janice and Darlene’s combined effort along with Susan’s and Carly’s constant work on the tower was more than a match for the boys’ combined effort.

_BZZZZZZZZ! Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

“Pencils down, everyone!” Grauntie Mabel called. Everyone put down the cups and guns they’d been holding, though Stanford had to take the shotgun away from Stanley as he pointed it at Darlene. “Count up your cups, girls. Counselors, be honest with your score.”

Dan sighed. “Ten.”

_“Ten?!”_

“Ten!” The girls laughed and high-fived each other.

“Okay, Cabin C… Cabin Two… and Cabin A! Congratulations! Now put everything back and go have some fun and lunch, the lot of you! Next game is being held outside,” Grauntie Mabel announced, walking deeper into the house.

Stanley said, “I wonder what the next challenge will be?”

Preston puffed, “And let’s hope it’s not a cabin thing. We’ve already lost.”

“True that,” Stanley agreed. “Unless… it is and we totally annihilate them! We won’t get out of dinner clean-up, but neither will they.”

Preston nodded. “That’s true.” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think we’ll be able to see what the next one is, do you?”

Stanley grinned. “If we do that, we can prepare!”

Stanford piped up, “If you do that, we’ll all get in trouble.”

Stanley waved his hand. “Pssh. I can do it without being caught.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Not with that attitude, dummy. Your hillbilly friend has the advantage of pity right now. He can do it.”

“Don’t call him that and yeah, Fidds is cool! Hey, Fidds?”

“Nope.” Fiddleford shook his head.

Dan piped up, “And that’s the end of that. None of you can go out and ask any staff member what the next challenge will be.”

Stanley groaned. “C’mon, Dan!”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Preston rolled his eyes and leaned toward Stanley. “Just ask one of the teens who likes you–like Maria. You talk to the lunch lady all the time, right?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, she taught us Spanish when we were little. Look, we have an hour after mail time to goof off before another activity. By then, even if we don’t know what it is, we’ll be prepared.”

Stanford shook his head and looked down. Gompers had joined them as they walked out. “Gompers, I have a bad feeling about this.” _Baaaa._

 

“Soooo, Maria!” Stanley grinned.

Maria stated simply, “I do not help you cheat.”

“How’d you know?”

“I have known you for years, _Chico._ ”

“Ugh, fine.”

 

“Okay, the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” Grauntie Mabel announced as she led them to the front yard. A great dunk tank was in the center of the yard. A ball with a string of cones behind it was a few feet away. A large bucket of different color cloth was near the end of the line of five cones, all of which were spread apart by two feet. “First thing’s first: Cabin A and One, you grab the blue cloths from that basket. Cabin B and Two, you grab the red ones. Cabin C and Three, you grab the green ones. Tie them around your dominant wrists.”

Once everyone had gotten their colors and tied them around their dominant wrists, they backed off. In the bucket were a good few purple ones.

“Everyone got a cloth? Great! Volunteers, you grab yours.” Three of the younger members of staff–Daryl, Ed, and Toby–came forward to take the purple cloths. Toby handed the last one to Grauntie Mabel. “Now, two things are happening! One team color will be by the dunk tank, playing that game. The other two colors will wait on either side, cheering the team on. Each team will get one staff member both to supervise and to play. Now, go find your teams!” Once the three volunteers found their teams–Daryl with Green Team, Ed with Red Team, and Toby with Blue Team–Grauntie Mabel explained the dunk tank game. One person would sit in the dunk tank. Another person would be spun ten times and would then need to run between the orange cones, grab the ball at the end, and have one shot at hitting the dunk tank. If they got it, they win and go to the back, where the next person in line will replace the dunked one and another kid will come up to be spun. If they miss, the kid goes back, is spun five times, and has to go through the course again either until he or she lands a hit, or two minutes is up.

Team Blue was up first with Toby in the dunk tank and Tyrone spinning the first kid, Tyler. The other team cheered and whooped, mainly to see someone dunked, but also because Tyler was liked by many people. Stanford leaned toward Susan. “Hey, you know everyone, right?”

“Everyone!” Susan agreed. “Even you, Stanley, and Fiddleford!”

“How do you…? Never mind. Why do so many people like Tyler? I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but he doesn’t talk much,” Stanford pointed out.

Susan nodded. “Mhm. Well, he’s a YouTuber. Uploads fights and competitions to YouTube. He’s _really_ good at making videos go viral and manipulating the system. You can see where I’m going. If he wanted to, he could make you internet famous… if that’s good or bad, it depends on how you behave and what he–or someone who commissions him–thinks about you. He doesn’t do anything really graphic in any aspect, including fights. Which is why he didn’t bring his camera to the lake. I’m pretty sure Preston paid him to go to that card game.”

Tyler missed the shot and went back to the beginning.

“Okay. I can understand that. What about Toby? People seem to push him around.”

“Yeah, he’s a self-made punching bag. Only does it because he thinks that’s how he can stay in with the ‘cool’ kids: Dan, Janice, Daryl, Edwin, and Greg.”

The next kid, Reginald, managed to dunk Toby. Tyler took Daryl’s place as a spinner and allowed Daryl to sit on the dunk tank.

Stanford prompted, “Can I see one of Tyler’s videos?”

Susan nodded. “Oh, sure! But we’re not allowed our phones or internet, remember?”

Stanford nodded. “Yeah. So, I’ll really have to wait until summer ends?”

“Mmmm… not exactly. You just have to know the right person. Which I do.” Susan smirked. “I’ll hook you up. Buuut, they’ll ask for a price.”

“Why don’t I ask them myself?”

“Well, you’re not allowed in the girl’s cabins. That’s why.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, tell me the price.”

“Price?” Stanley took his gaze away from the game and to his brother and Susan. “What you sellin’?”

Daryl was dunked by Rosanna. Tyler took his place.

Susan smiled. “My friend’s service. Internet’s gonna be pretty expensive around here. But I’ll ask to make sure. I’ll let you know by tomorrow.”

“You got a fence?” Stanley grinned.

“Yeah.” Susan smirked. “You’re excited. Need anything?”

“First: what are you tryin’ to buy, Ford?”

“I want to see a few of Tyler’s videos,” Stanford explained. “Well, she could always just download the videos and put them on a drive. I have a drive and a computer.”

Susan’s eyes lit up. “You have your own computer?”

Stanford nodded. “Yes and, because of Fiddleford, it works very well.”

She grinned. “I think we might have some use for you.”

Tyler fell with a hearty splash and launched himself out of the cold water. Sue took his place at the dunk tank and Gus–Dan’s little brother–became a spinner.

Stanley set his elbow on Stanford’s shoulder. “So, what’s so special about Tyler’s videos?” After Susan explained what they were in more detail, Stanley chuckled. “Man! He’d do so well back at home. I beat up bullies all the time!”

“You mean, you get beat up on by them and you fight back really hard?” Stanford prompted.

“Pot-taa-toh, Poh-tah-toh.”

By the time Team Two was done, Team One had dried off. Dan went to the dunk tank upon being dared by Janice, and Fiddleford stayed as spinner or second-in-line. Stanley tromped up to stand by Fiddleford and held his hands by his side. “We ready?”

“Ready when you are, Stan.”

“Okay. Count!” Stanley spun on his heels, stumbling a bit the farther we got until finally, he hit ten. Dizzily, he hopped between the cones and got to the end. With cheering of his team and Dan’s teasing mocking in his ears, Stanley plucked the ball and threw it. The ball hit the wall right above the tank handle with a hard _thump!_ The third time Stanley threw it, his aim was true. Dan fell into the dunk tank with a huge splash. Stanley turned on his heel and called, “You’re up, Fidds!”

Fiddleford chuckled nervously as he replaced Dan. “Jus’ be careful!”

Stanford stood by his brother as Stanley replaced him as a spinner. Stanley called back, “Come on, Ford’s a weak thrower! You have nothin’ to worry about!”

“Stanley!” Stanford hissed.

“Prove me wrong, man!”

“I will!” Unfortunately, Stanford didn’t. Later, Preston managed to dunk Fiddleford, gaining a high five from Priscilla. Then, Preston helped spin her as he replaced Stanley.

After a good two more rounds, with everyone having been dunked as, after the third round, Grauntie Mabel dunked the only two people who hadn’t been soaked–Sue and Bud–they were let go to dry off and relax.

 

That night, the kids were led back to their cabin by Dan. As they got ready for bed, someone knocked on the door. Stanford opened the door, only to come face-to-face–or, face to chest–with Tyrone. Stanford grinned. “Tyrone! You’re back! Did you learn anything about the monsters? The codes? The author?”

Tyrone dipped his head. “I did.” He took off his backpack and shuffled through it. He brought out the freshly cleaned box, camcorder, and a printed, thin, string-bound stack of papers with a pine tree on it. “That pile of paper is a copy of the coded journal, but with my annotations on them. They’re not very difficult codes; they’re mostly the standard Caesar, Atbash, Number-Substitution, and Vigenère. So, you should be able to figure them out.”

Stanford took it from him and looked over the printed journal as Tyrone spoke. Then, he prompted, “So you didn’t translate it?”

“Of course I did, but I knew you had the translation as well,” Tyrone stated simply. “Just like you, I’m staying here. So, I need _something_ to explain why my left sock keeps getting stolen.”

Stanley piped up, “You sure it isn’t Bud?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. Now stay safe, understand? Don’t go looking for trouble. I swore I wouldn’t tell Mrs. Pines about this, and I won’t, but I cannot lie to her if she asks me how you kids got hurt. Gravity Falls is a dangerous place. So, keep that close and learn from it and _don’t_ mess with dangerous stuff. Got it?”

“Yes, Tyrone!”

“Good.” Tyrone hesitated. “If you ever need help, I’m here. That includes you, Dan, Preston.” He glanced at his watch. “Good night. Stay safe.”

“Good night!” Stanford shut the door behind him. He spun around to face the rest of the cabin. “I _told_ you he’d bring it back! And look! He even put down notes!” He set his things on his bedside table and opened the journal for all of them to see. Notes in blue ink scribbled over the margins. The text was in black as the copier that duplicated it was black-and-white. Strangely, the entire thing seemed very clean as if printed from a computer.

Preston looked over Stanley’s shoulder. He pointed to one of the annotations next to a drawn picture of a gnome. “ _‘Weakness: Leaf blower’_? What does that mean?”

Stanford stated, “It _means_ that he’s gone up against gnomes before and they’re weak to leaf blowers!”

Dan spoke up, “It’s getting late. Listen to Tyrone, okay? None of us have ever seen him.” He sent a shifty glance at the door before looking at the kids. “But he _does_ seem to know things about Gravity Falls.”

“Alright.” Stanford shut the journal and set it on top of the pine tree box and set the camcorder on top of that. “We’ll be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This "Nyarf" and "Dunk tank" scenes are from ["NARF CASTLE WAR CHALLENGE"](https://youtu.be/RmK56LecIRQ) and ["DRUNK DUNK TANK CHALLENGE"](https://youtu.be/O02BhUDQpvo). Title is a pun. No one's getting a bad time... yet... lol
> 
> Also: You should 100% completely trust random creepy teens at a summer camp who approach you at night when everyone else is asleep.


	14. Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday!

“ATEEEEEEN-TION!”

 

Stanley laughed, “It’s Friday!”

“It is,” Stanford agreed, setting his breakfast on the table. “Tomorrow, we’ll get to go out again!”

“It’s not just any Friday,” Stanley pointed out and grinned.

Fiddleford agreed quietly, “It’s the thirteenth.”

Stanford scoffed, “You don’t _actually_ believe that paranoid, bad-luck fairy-tale, do you?”

“It is!” Fiddleford burst out. “Lots a’ bad luck on the thirteenth, especially Friday.”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “That’s just dumb superstition drummed up by people who just want to make you scared. There’s no such thing as ‘Unlucky Friday the Thirteenth.’”

“Well, you go on doin’ what ya think is right. Ah’ll stay inside.”

“As _if!_ ” Stanley huffed. “We got stuff _planned_ , dude! You don’t even know what Grauntie Mabel has planned for today.”

“Yeah an’ Ah got plans, too,” Fiddleford agreed. “Stayin’ inside ’til tomorrow.”

Stanford shook his head. “Today’s _not_ an unlucky day. I’ll prove it! Nothing today should go wrong. It’s just another Friday. Tomorrow, it’ll be Saturday the Fourteenth!”

Fiddleford pouted. “Like Ah said, Ah ain’t stoppin’ ya, but Ah won’t join ya, either.”

 

After breakfast was over, Stanford took Fiddleford’s wrist and walked with them to the road, where the bus waited with a door open and Grauntie Mabel beside it. Grauntie Mabel announced, “Today’s adventure lies outside these gates!”

Fiddleford froze. “Y-you go on without me.”

Stanford sighed. “Fiddleford, there’s nothing–hey! Fiddleford!” He gasped as Fiddleford tore his wrist out of Stanford’s grip.

“Dude!” Stanley yelled after him. The boy was gone, fleeing faster than the twins would have imagined was possible.

Grauntie Mabel walked up to them. “Aw, poor kid. Guess I should have planned the lake trip for Monday.”

Stanley huffed and waved his hand. “ _Nah!_ Today’s the perfect day! Look at how awesome it is outside! I’ll go grab him.”

“Actually,” Grauntie Mabel started, causing the boys to stay where they were. “He is all wound up. It’ll be more stressful than fun.”

“But his fear is stupid,” Stanley stated bluntly. “We gotta get him over it.”

“Fears aren’t healthy. We’d be doing him a favor,” Stanford pointed out.

Grauntie Mabel hesitated. “Well… fears aren’t healthy. Come on. But not too long. If he refuses, you come back. We don’t want everyone else waiting!” She raised her voice, “Mill about, but don’t stray far. Toby’s in charge!”

The teens laughed and chanted, “To-by! To-by! To-by!”

When they got their cabin, their best friend was huddled up in his bed, blanket wrapped up around himself and forehead touching the wall.

Stanford got up on his toes and crossed his arms on the bunkbed. “Fiddleford, come on. We have to leave.”

“Ah’m not goin’.” Fiddleford’s voice was muffled by his blanket.

Stanley groaned. “Ugh! We get to go to the lake, dude! You didn’t come with us last time. So, we have to make up for lost time!”

“Ah did, Ah was jus’ late,” Fiddleford stated stubbornly. “You guys jus’ didn’t see me is all.”

“Yeah, well, you also didn’t go with us to town.”

“Did ya really forget _why?_ ” The top part of the wrapped up pile of blanket moved a bit.

“Well… no. Yeah, I _know_ you weren’t supposed to go. But come on, man! You have to visit town _sometime!_ ”

Grauntie Mabel piped up, “I know you’re scared, sweetheart. How about you give it a chance? If you really, really don’t want to, you don’t have to go. But you’ll have a lot of fun!”

Stanford smiled. “Yeah! What if we find a lake monster? I told you that we’re a team of three!”

“If you don’t go, it’s just us and Preston,” Stanley pointed out. “Come on, dude, you wouldn’t do that to anyone! Besides, if we _do_ find a lake monster, I’ll need someone to hold Stanford down while I turn the boat around.” Grauntie Mabel rolled her eyes and Fiddleford let out a quiet chuckle.

“W-well, if ya really need me…”

“Yeah, dude!” Stanley exclaimed.

“Alright.” Fiddleford sighed and wormed his way out of the blanket. “But only ’cause Ah don’t want ya getting’ in trouble punchin’ Preston again.”

“No promises.”

“Stanley!” Grauntie Mable scolded. “It better not happen!”

Stanley grinned up at her. “I don’t make promises, Grauntie. I’ll just break them.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, ya rascals. If we don’t hurry, they might have Toby trying to crowd-surf a bunch of children.”

Stanley’s eyes brightened. “I gotta see that!”

Outside, the campers were gathered in a circle. Dan and Janice helped up a few kids. Greg took Toby’s hand and pulled him to his feet. Grauntie Mabel yelled, “What’s my bus driver doing on the ground?”

The campers looked around at each other. Tyler lowered his camera. Susan piped up, “Janice dared Cabin Two to hold up Toby. When Dan said they couldn’t, they immediately agreed to do it. I don’t think they’re hurt.”

“We’re not!” Bud called.

Grauntie Mabel rolled her eyes. “Well, as long as no one’s hurt. In the bus, now! We got a party to start! Gompers, no animals on the bus. You’ll have to stay here with Waddles.”

Stanford nodded and patted Gomper’s head. “Go on and stay with Waddles. We’ll be back!” _Baaa._ The baby goat nudged Stanford’s ankle before hopping away.

The campers immediately ran to the door, entering only after the teens had gone in. Fiddleford’s bravery failed and he attempted to step back. Stanford took his wrist. “Come on, Fiddleford. It’s alright.”

The boy took a deep breath and nodded.

Once it was their turn, Stanley stepped back to allow Stanford and Fiddleford to go on first. Stanford, calm as could be, walked on board. Though he needed to tug his wrist, Fiddleford stiffly followed. Before he could flee, Fiddleford’s exit was blocked as Stanley hopped on board, followed lastly by Grauntie Mabel. The seats were standard two-per-person, two-per-row, so Stanford and Fiddleford shared a seat with Stanley beside Tyler.

The bus growled and lurched forward. Fiddleford yelped and tightened his grip on Stanford’s hand. Stanford winced. Wow, he had some strength. Then again, he did build robots and he lived on a farm. What else did he expect?

Stanley said, “So, did I tell you about the time Ford thought he found some talking birds? Fidds?”

Stanford nudged Fiddleford, who’d frozen up. Fiddleford jumped and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, no. No, ya haven’t.”

“Heh. Well, Ford an’ I were walking the beach. These big black birds come out of nowhere and start squawking and trying to steal my food. Ford _says_ he heard them talking.”

Stanford piped up, “They did! _‘Sister, sister! They’re here, they’re here!’ ‘Brother, they are, they are! Not for long, not for long!’_ ”

“Ford–aha, then Ford tells–hehe–tells them–” Stanley burst into muffled laughter.

“I _asked_ them who they were,” Stanford pressed. “If you recall, they stopped their squawking and stared at me. _‘You listen? He hears, he hears!’_ one of them said. They both started screeching random names I didn’t recognize along with Stanley’s and my own before flying away.” Stanford hesitated. “Now that I think about it…” _“Stanford! Stanley! Fiddleford! Mabel! Susan! Preston! Darlene! Dan! Tyrone! Carly! Priscilla! Janice! Gompers! Bud! Jessy!”_

“None of which I heard!” Stanley pointed out. “You were hallucinating.”

“I wasn’t hallucinating. Those birds were talking,” Stanford stated. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found them again.”

“Pfft,” Stanley scoffed. “You’re crazy. I told you he’s nutty. Right, Fidds? Fidds?”

“Y-yeah, uh… well…” Fiddleford stuttered, somehow tightening his grip on Stanford’s hand.

Stanley snickered at the look on Stanford’s face. Stanford glared at him and then looked at Fiddleford, who was between them. “Stanley calls everyone crazy.” He glanced out the window. “We’re nearly there. We’re fine! Nothing happen–!”

“Don’t say that!” Fiddleford crossed so quickly he cut Stanford off. “You’ll jinx us! A-anything can happen, especially in a c-car or a bus o-or anything like that.”

The bus hissed and jolted to a stop.

Stanley gestured around them. “See? We didn’t get hit by another car or picked up by a flyin’ monster or somethin’. Now come on! I wanna be first in line!” He hopped to his feet and stood in the middle of aisle, right beside Fiddleford.

Fiddleford hopped to his feet. “Right, right. Yes.” Surprisingly, he slipped between people in front of them and rushed out the door as soon as it opened.

Stanley crossed his arms. “Now let’s just hope we can get him back inside!”

Stanford frowned and followed Stanley outside. “Something’s wrong, Stanley. Something about busses or Friday the Thirteenth or something of the like.”

“He’s a nervous wreck, just like always.”

“Always?” Stanford echoed. “You know he’s only paranoid and scared outside of the camp or planning to go outside of the camp! Anyway, there’s something wrong with the road and I’ll figure it out.” Stanford set his gaze and nodded.

Stanley rolled his eyes as they left the bus. “Yeah, sure. I just want to know what we’re doing!”

“Well, Stan, you’re in luck!” Grauntie Mabel’s voice appeared behind them. Grinning and planting her hands on her hips was their great aunt and camp director. “We’re going to be on the water all day. So, put on your sunscreen, kids!” As the kids took off their uniforms to show the swimming suits they wore beneath and put on their sunscreen, Grauntie Mabel walked around them. “This morning, we’ll be having a race! Each cabin gets their own boat. It’s your decision how you move it, what everyone does, and all that jazz. Your priority is getting out to the buoys, and then coming back. First four teams to get back win! Counselors, you can’t row, but you can direct your team. Now! Cabin A!”

The boats on the dock all looked the same. They all had four rows, two on each side, and rudders. There was a motor with a tall flag on top. Each cabin had their own flag color with their number or letter. Cabin Three was red.

Stanley hopped in first with Stanford next to him at the front. “Alright, here’s how this goes.” Stanley looked back at Dan, Fiddleford, and Preston as they joined them. Dan passed out life vests. “Dan can use the motor and turn the boat. When we get near that buoy, you turn off the motor and all four of us will make it to the buoy, turn around, and then, when we’re turned around, you turn the motor back on.”

“That’s stupid,” Preston stated. “Why not just keep the motor on?”

“We need a sharp turn,” Stanley answered. “I know you probably don’t know this ’cause you’re stuck inside all day learning about how to put down a fork right, but Ford an’ I have experience. We’re outside all the time!”

“Yeah, you’ve got the tan and sunburns for it,” Preston agreed. “But you don’t make the decisions, Jersey Trash. Dan does.”

Dan piped up, “I agree with Stanley. Honestly, Preston. Try not to be so mean.”

Stanley snickered and faced forward. “Good! Any other questions?”

Fiddleford piped up, “What if the boat flips over and we all fall into the lake?”

“Then we get back into the boat and keep going,” Stanley replied. “Simple! Don’t tip the boat. We need to keep equal weight on both sides as well as the back and front. Ford and I are naturally bigger than you two. Genes or whatever.”

“Genetics,” Stanford clarified.

“Right, that. Dan, just try to lean forward or somethin’. Don’t rock the boat and we’ll be good.”

Preston scoffed, “Who would be stupid enough to do that?”

“Someone who’s never been in a boat, _obviously._ ”

“Like your hillbilly friend?” Preston asked.

Fiddleford nodded. “Ah’ve been in a four-wheeler, though. No boats.”

Dan huffed, “What’s gotten into you, Preston?”

“Yeah,” Stanford agreed. “You’re usually not so snide in front of adults.”

“He’s not an adult,” Preston stated shortly. “And it’s none of your business.”

“Someone cranky he didn’t get his beauty rest?” Stanley prompted.

“Your dumb goat kept me up half the night!” Preston hissed back.

“He was in my bed!” Stanford crossed. “Gompers is a very intelligent and good-mannered baby goat.”

“He tried smothering me in my sleep.”

“You probably deserved it, dude.”

Grauntie Mabel’s yell cut out the chatter around the dock. “Alright, teams! Positions!”

Dan untied the boat. “Come on, let’s get up in line.”

Once the boats had been rowed forward until they were in a line, Grauntie Mabel called, “One my count! Three… two… one…!” _HOOOOOONK!_ She squeezed the airhorn in her hand.

_Vrrrr!_ Dan ripped the motor lever forward. Spray from the lake hissed past them as they tore off across the lake. Stanley and Stanford laughed as they skipped over the ripples in the lake. Aquatic creatures flicked under the dazzling waves. Insects and birds took advantage of the warm air currents flowing over the lake which became increasingly heavier as mist from the spray threw water into the atmosphere.

The twins leaned forward, and Stanley held out his hand. All four paddles flared from the sides of the boat. “Now!” Dan killed the motor. A few other boats whizzed past, sending water crashing down on them. “Row!” Once the waves calmed a bit more, the paddles cut through the hissing waves. Stanley nudged Stanford and rocked the boat to the side, calling, “Alright, weight to starboard! Dan!”

“Starboard?” echoed the three other boys.

“ _RIGHT!_ ”

The boat hissed as it skidded across the water on its side, Fiddleford’s and Stanley’s paddles clear out of the water, and whipped around. “Now, Dan!” Dan yanked the lever forward, causing the motor to snarl to life and the boat to shoot forward. Behind them, the other boats were way back, struggling to turn around and then even out as many wobbled or overcompensated and turned too far.

Cabin Three was the first back to the docks.

Stanley threw his hands in the air and whooped. “Victory!”

As the twins laughed, and Preston rolled his eyes and smothered a victorious grin in favor of a fake-angry grimace, Fiddleford wiped his hair out of his eyes. “Was that whole thing really necessary? Pagh!” He spat out lake water that had gotten into his mouth.

“Of course!” Stanley laughed, turning around to face him. “How else would we have turned that sharp? That was awesome!”

Stanford nodded, grinning just as wide as his brother. “Yep!”

Cabin C, Cabin One, and Cabin B were second, third, and fourth cabins back. Trailing in dead last was Cabin Two. All kids as well as their counselor, Tyrone were soaked. Grauntie Mabel walked along the length of the dock until she got to the last boat. “What happened here?”

Tyrone cleared his throat. “Boat flipped, and Bud’s life vest slipped off. Didn’t latch it on properly.”

Bud, shivering, nodded and pawed at the teal charm on his throat.

“Well! At least no one was hurt!” Grauntie Mabel cleared her throat. “Do you kids want to get out and dry off? We were just about to go again. But if you don’t feel like it…”

Bud shook his head. “I’m fine!”

“Yeah!” Jessy, Nick, and Hank agreed.

“I made sure he’s fine,” Tyrone reassured her.

“Good. If you’re sure.” Grauntie Mabel shrugged and then walked back so that she was in front of them all. “Now, Round Two, anyone?”

“YEAH!”

Each time they came back, their score was tallied with first place getting six points and last place getting one. As Stanley’s team won every single time, even when other teams attempted to copy his strategy, they were the declared the first winner. Cabin C was second with Cabin Two and Cabin A tying for third and fourth.

“Okay, now go have fun. Don’t go too far!” Grauntie Mabel called at last. “Lunch is at twelve, the next activity is two hours after that. You can take the boats, but be sure to return them! _In working order!_ Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

While most people abandoned the boats–including Preston–Stanley stretched. “So, where too first, co-captain?”

“I would like to see some of the water flora and fauna,” Stanford answered. “Perhaps we can get some samples of weird plants or formations. I think I saw something like a giant boulder shaped like a tooth along the shore I would like to investigate.”

Stanley turned around. “You guys with us?”

Dan pushed himself to his feet. “Nah, man. The water’s fun and all, but I’d rather feel the ground beneath my own two feet.”

Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Well, ya seem like you two know whatcher doin’, so Ah’ll stay. Ah haven’t taken a look around this lake before.”

“Great! Mind taking motor?” Stanley asked as Dan left.

“Okay!” Fiddleford hopped to his feet and made his way to Dan’s place.

“Wait!” Stanford stood up. “I’ll go grab my bag. Wait here!” With that, he hopped off the boat onto the dock and darted to the bus. Within minutes, he was back and in the boat. “Alright! So, I have my transcribed notes. I left the tapes in your bag, Stanley. We can’t risk them getting wet. Anyway, where do you two think we should start?”

Stanley put a hand over his eyes as he surveyed the lake. “Hmm… well… maybe we should just sail around until we find something.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Sounds great! Ah like the shore, to be honest, but Ah really wanna see what’s in the lake.”

“Not exactly exciting,” Stanford stated. “But, I can see–whoa!”

_SHHHWWWOOOOSH!_

He grabbed onto the boat as their water vehicle lurched and the rope holding them to the dock snapped taut as a rather large wave attempted to shove them back.

“What was that?” Stanley spat out lake water that had crashed into the front of the boat.

Stanford wiped off his glasses and looked over the lake, still holding onto the side of their boat with a strong grip. He barely caught sight of a long tail ending in three long fins slipping into the water. “Whoa! Did you see that?”

“See what?” Stanley looked over the calming waves.

Fiddleford wiped off his glasses of the lake’s spray. “See what?”

“Over there, I saw a fi–there!” Stanford pointed ahead of himself. A long green object breeched the water–not enough to show its bottom, but enough to show off the glimmering scales in the water. Just as quickly as it surfaced, it dipped down. The tips of jagged fins cut through the water before the creature was completely submerged beneath of bluish waves.

Stanley and Fiddleford gasped, their eyes going wide. “A lake monster!”

“Sweet!” Stanley laughed.

“No!” Fiddleford sucked in his breath. “Water ain’t safe. We really shouldn’t go.”

Stanford, who’d already taken out his journal, was scribbling feverishly with a black-ink pen. “Fascinating! That thing must be _huge!_ It was heading straight for that island. Stanley, untie the ropes! Fiddleford, turn on the engine!”

“This is crazy!” Fiddleford crossed. “We can’t chase a lake monster in a _motor boat!_ ”

“Do you have a ship?” Stanford prompted.

“Well, um, no, but–”

“Then we take this boat,” Stanford stated. “Are you with us, or do you want to stay on shore?”

Fiddleford bit his lip and then sighed. “Ah’ll go with ya.” He gripped the lever on the motor. “Jus’ tell me where to go.”

“Great!” Stanford turned back to his journal. “I was hoping you would say that. I value your input quite a lot.” This gained a sheepish smile from Fiddleford.

Stanley untied the rope and plopped down in his seat in the front. “Yeah, you’re pretty cool. Now full steam ahead! We’re going to that island!”

 

Fog wreathed about a boneyard of broken ships, rocks, and branches. Fiddleford, hands tight on the motor, squinted to look ahead. He rubbed his glasses with his shirt as the mist fogged them. Stanley stood at the front of the boat, chest puffed out and one hand over his eyes.

Stanford, nose in his journal, flipped through various pages in an attempt to find aquatic monsters.

“Stanley?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Yeah?” Stanley stayed facing the front, not bothering to turn his head and throw his voice back at them.

“Can you see where the water gets too shallow?” Fiddleford prompted. “An’ is there a place the boat could fit near the shore?”

“Still lookin’,” Stanley replied. “But that’s a negative. We might have to get out and walk.”

“Get out of the boat?” Stanford and Fiddleford echoed. Fiddleford held a cautious air while Stanford sported a look of exasperation.

Stanley nodded. “Mhm. Unless you want to crash the boat and  _then_  walk through the water.”

Stanford sighed and put away his journal. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Jus’ tell me where the best place to stop is.”

“Just a few feet more,” Stanley promised and backed off. “Yeah, you can stop here. Sweet! Let’s go get ourselves a monster!”

Fiddleford stopped the boat. A hearty  _splash_ nearby marked Stanley throwing the anchor overboard. Stanford rolled up his jeans as far up as they would go, grabbed a lantern, and then hopped into the water. Thankfully, they landed near a pile of large rocks, so he didn’t sink too far into the water. Stanley and Fiddleford followed him into the foggy woods.

Stanford lit the lantern and held it up to keep the fog at bay. Fiddleford, now holding a backpack over his shoulder, held onto the strap in one hand. Something glinted under his sleeve. Stanley picked up a stick and whistled as they walked.

They soon came across a large sign boldly stating, “SCUTTLEBUTT ISLAND”. Stanley snickered, stopped, and covered “SCUTTLE” with his arm. “Hey, check it out! ‘Butt Island’!”

Fiddleford made an uneven, nervous noise like a chuckle. Stanford didn’t respond.

“Hey! Why aren’t you laughing?” Stanley lowered his arm. “You scared?”

“No. You’re just not funny,” Stanford pointed out.

“Liar!” Stanley accused. He poked him and blew a raspberry. “You’re scared!”

“Stanley!” Stanford waved his hand to get Stanley to go away. Stanley continued to poke him and blow raspberries. “Ugh! Quit! Stanley!” The lantern hit the ground at their feet.

_Grrrrrrooooooooaaaaaarrrrrrrr…!_

Stanley stopped at once. Their attention snapped to the direction of the noise, which was farther up the trail. Fiddleford’s grip on his bag tightened. “Wh-what was that?”

Stanford stood up straight and grinned. “It’s the lake monster! It has to be! That or some kind of really big island monster!” He leaned down to grab his lantern. He gasped as a possum ran over his feet, snatched the lantern, and skittered off. “Hey!”

“Aw!” Stanley groaned and squinted. “I can’t see a thing!”

“Uh… maybe this isn’t worth it anymore,” Fiddleford piped up. “Maybe, uh… we should just go back ta shore a-and mark it as ‘p-probably real’.”

“Not worth it?” the twins echoed.

Stanley pointed in the direction of the noise. “That’s a real big monster! If we find thing, we’ll prove that monsters are real and that we’re real monster hunters!”

Stanford nodded. “Not only that, but maybe we’ll get enough respect from Tyrone to let him help us. He obviously knows some things about this place and he obviously thinks we’re too young to understand.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if we’re right or wrong if we’re all dead!”

Stanley scoffed, “You’d think so! But all in the name of a good monster hunt, right?”

“Come on! We’ve wasted enough time!” Stanford announced and ran off down the trail.

“Yep!” Stanley agreed and followed.

“Whoa! Wait fer me!” Fiddleford chased after them. “Don’t leave me alone!”

 

Later, Stanley picked up his stick. “So, how big do you think it is?”

“It has to be big,” Stanford answered. “That tail fin was enormous, and if that thing in the water was its head, it would have to be huge.”

Stanley grinned. “Man, I can’t wait to see that thing! Do you think I can get a tooth?”

“Stan, you don’t want to get close to a monster like that,” Fiddleford denied.

_Grrrrroooaaaaaaarrrrrrr…!_

A flock of birds fled from the direction in which they were heading. Stanford gasped. “It’s the monster!”

“The monster!” Stanley agreed and, shoving and giggling his brother, ran ahead. Fiddleford unlatched the top flap on his backpack and ran after them.

They reached the shore. The trio stopped and ducked behind a log. In the water was the hump-backed silhouette of the monster they’d been tracking.

Stanford brought out his camera. “Okay. Ready?”

Stanley held a stick at ready. “Ready.”

Fiddleford nodded. “R-ready.”

“Three… two… one…” Stanford whispered and then announced, “ _Go!_ ”

The trio jumped out from behind the log and raced to the shore. They only stopped when they came closer to the silhouette. The trio stopped and lowered what they held. A shipwrecked boat, broken and distorted, lay in the water. Beavers, chittering and squeaking, covered it.

“But…” Stanford looked over the scene. “What was that noise? There was a monster noise! I’m not going crazy! I know I heard it!”

They jumped as the “monster noise” snarled again. They turned to see a beaver chewing on a rusty chainsaw. On occasion, the chainsaw would turn on, causing it to let out a strangled, snarling noise before fading again.

“Oh. A beaver with a chainsaw. My dad’s not gunna believe this.” Fiddleford raised his camera and took a picture of it.

Stanley sighed and lowered his branch. “You sure it’s real?”

“Of course!” Stanford threw his hands up and stalked to the shore. “It’s real, it has to be! I saw it! You saw it, too, Stanley!”

“Yeah, I guess.” Stanley looked around. Fiddleford took pictures of beavers that littered the place. He walked around to different spots to get different angles on the same beaver or cluster of beavers. Stanley crossed his arms and stared at the broken boat. Stanford sat on the edge of a rock jutting out over the water. “Stupid beavers. Stupid boat.” He chucked a rock at the broken boat. It plopped into the water a few feet away. Hardly a few seconds after the small rock sank, the rock Stanford was on sank into the water. He screamed and abandoned the water. Stanley and Fiddleford helped him to shore and looked back. A massive tail rose up from the water. Its large split fins cast a shadow larger than the three boys put together. It slipped back into the water as the body swam out and then back around.

Stanford hopped to his feet and took out his camera. “Yes! It’s here! It’s real!” He took pictures of the back of the creature, which breached the water. The thing’s back was large, smooth, and rounded like a turtle’s, though the shadow that flowed before and behind it was smooth and long like a serpent. “Come on, this is our chance!” He looked back at them. Fiddleford and Stanley took a few steps back. Stanley dropped his stick. Unknown to Stanford, the creature stopped just shy of the shore and raised its head. It’s shadow, which grew longer and longer with no sign of stopping, spread out over them. “What are you doing? It’s right here!”

“F-Ford?” Fiddleford squeaked.

“Dude…!” Stanley took another step back.

Stanford sighed. “It’s not that hard. Look, just turn around, point, and… shoot…” When he turned around, his eyes pressed against the camera, he nearly did a double take. Were it not for the scaly texture on screen, he’d have thought the lens was broken and black. He tipped his head back until his neck hurt. Drops of water dribbled onto his curly brown hair. The creature stared down at him with dull greenish blue eyes. It’s long, narrow snout ended in a set of gargantuan rodent-esc teeth jutting up from the bottom jaw. Giant fangs fell from the front jaw half-way to the back of its mouth. Large fins puffed out from the sides of its head like a mane.

Stanford’s blood turned to ice. It was as if he stared into the eyes of Medusa as the creature managed to freeze him just by staring him down. For a moment, no one moved. Water streamed down its giant body. Stanford didn’t even twitch as a drop of water splattered over one lens of his glasses.

Then, the creature opened its jaws and let out the most God-awful noise Stanford could ever dream to hear. Stanford turned tail and fled. He could hear blood curdling screams blast through his ears as they fled. Numbly, he wondered if one of them belong to him.

The creature burst out of the water and landed on the island. The ground shook and a few pine trees broke and fell forward. Stanford chanced a look back as they ran. The aquatic creature barreled through the trail. Its girth and small, water-oriented fins slowed it considerably on hard land. Somehow, it still gained on them. Stanford took out another camera to take a picture. The camera flashed. The Gobblewonker’s head swooped down, jaws wide open and dull eyes focused on him. Stanford dodged the attack and winced as the monster’s jaws slammed shut with a  _snap_ beside him. His camera fell out of his hands. It shattered as the monster ran over it.

Then, the shore was in sight. Stanley raised his hand. “Into the boat!”

“It’ll follow us!” Fiddleford screamed back, though he didn’t hesitate to jump into the water.

Stanley climbed up the rope to the makeshift anchor and, once Fiddleford got close, grabbed him by the back of his backpack. “Then we’re gunna to have to outstrip it!”

Stanford scrambled onto the deck. Fiddleford attacked the controls. Stanley and Stanford grabbed onto whatever was nearest as the boat jerked back, spun around, and raced off.

For a moment, the creature shrieked at them from dry Land. Then, it hopped up onto its back flippers and crashed into the rocky shore and into the lake. The monstrous wave that followed nearly capsized them.

Stanford spat as water washed over him and parts of the deck. He watched the giant shape slither completely into the water. Although the sun shining off the surface of the lake made seeing through the greenish blue water difficult, the deformed bump of water following them was not hard to miss.

Stanley turned around to look in front of them. “FIDDS! TURN! TURN!”

“What–oh no!” Fiddleford yanked their boat around. It threw up a spray as it was forced to turn and rush down in another direction. The wave that followed drenched a few passive boats with the spray. The Gobblewonker lurched out of the water and snapped his teeth inches from the hull of the boat.

“Beavers!” Stanford yelled. Fiddleford’s boat crashed through the piles of weathered wood and the multitude of beavers. Many of the beavers landed in the boat, where they wreaked havoc. The Gobblewonker dipped its head under the water to continue the chase. Stanley and Stanford went around and threw as many of them as they could overboard as most of them had taken to tearing the boat apart. A few that they picked up attacked the boys. One landed on Fiddleford and pushed him back so that his head hit the motor. He yelped and put a hand on his head. “Ahh! Ow! Ow.”

Stanford threw another one overboard. “Stanley! Take the wheel! Fiddleford, throw these beavers out!”

“Aye-aye!” Fiddleford scrambled to the front of their boat and grabbed a beaver, while Stanley tossed a snarling beaver and grabbed the steering.

“Get ready to get juked, monster!” Stanley yelled. He tore straight through a crowd of people. The Gobblewonker, its head nearly breaching the water, sped after it. People screamed as the giant wave nearly capsized their boats. Fish were thrown in the air and people fell overboard.

Stanford gripped the railing tighter as Stanley whipped the boat around in hopes of losing it. The monster turned on a dime. Fiddleford took out a remote from his jacket and lifted the flap on his backpack. Something as small as a house cat flew out. After a small struggle, it landed on the creature’s forehead.

“What’s that?” Stanford yelled over the creatures’ shrieking roar and the snarling of the boat engine.

“It burns!” Fiddleford called back. “Ah made it ta cut through things too high for me ta reach.” Something in the front of the metal thing glowed and burned into the creature’s head. The Gobblewonker shrieked and immediately dipped its head under the water. “Don’t worry! It should survive!” The monster raised its head again. The robot was still attached to it. The flame sputtered back to life. The Gobblewonker lowered its head and head-butted the back of the boat causing the boat to lurch forward. A few of the robot’s “legs” broke and it detached. It landed on the deck. “Oh no!” Disregarding the nightmare that chased them, Fiddleford dove for his broken robot.

Stanford gasped and grabbed Fiddleford by the back of his life jacket. He yanked him back as the monster nearly snapped Fiddleford in half, tearing a hole in the portside hull. Water burst onto the floor of the boat. Fiddleford hugged his welder robot to his chest.

“Guys!” Stanley ducked. “Stop makin’ it attack me!” The boat zoomed into a niche in the rocks. The Gobblewonker tore through the straight.

“We’re not!” Stanford called back.

Fiddleford, still cradling his robot, looked forward. “Dead end!”

“Where do I go?!” Stanley yelled.

Stanford took out his notebook and flipped through it. “Uh… uh… keep going! There’s a place behind the falls!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!” Stanley yelled. Fiddleford secured his robot and remote inside his backpack. Stanford put away his scrapbook and held tight onto the rails. The boat slowed significantly. They gasped as the roaring falls soaked them and the boat. The boys were thrown from the water vehicle as it hit dry land. The trio tumbled into the dry cave. Stanford’s glasses flew off his face and one lens cracked against a rock nearby.

Stanford pulled himself to his hands and knees. He sputtered and gasped. Stanley sat up, a hand on his head. Fiddleford scrambled to sit up, a hand on his nose. Purple etched a line over the bridge of his nose where his glasses had dug into his face.

The Gobblewonker shrieked and barreled into the cave. A wave of water shoved them back a foot or so before attempting to drag them back. Stanley was first to his feet. He grabbed Fiddleford by the collar and yanked him back before the Gobblewonker could grab him. Stanford staggered to his feet.

The Gobblewonker snapped again. However, it wasn’t nearly as close to killing them as it had been. Stanford’s round eyes traveled to the creature’s body. It flailed its fins and struggled. It’s heavy, wide body couldn’t squeeze through the entrance. Rocks piled up on its back. Water gushed over its giant body.

A grin spread across Stanford’s features. “It’s stuck! It’s stuck!  _It’s stuck!_  Ha-ha!”

“It won’t kill us!” Fiddleford agreed.

“Take that, you scaly jerk!” Stanley jeered.

The creature roared and then sputtered. A stalactite, knocked loose from the creature’s thrashing, plummeted from the ceiling and hit its head. The creature’s struggles stopped instantly. The three watched as the creature’s head lowered to the ground, groaning all the while.

The kids stared at it. Fiddleford spared a glance at the boys. “Is it dead?”

Stanley shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” He hopped into the shallow water by the thing’s head.

“Be careful!” Fiddleford called.

Stanford tentatively followed. “Is it still alive?”

Stanley touched its head. “Well… it’s not bleedin’ or nothin’. How do you know if a giant lizard has a heartbeat or whatever?”

“You don’t. You have to check it’s breathing,” Stanford informed him as he, too, got close. He held a hand close to the monster’s large nostrils. A heavy, regular breeze rushed past his fingers and then sucked in. “It’s breathing.”

Fiddleford, staying well out of range, called, “What do you suppose we do about it?”

Stanford took out his notebook. “We should document it and then take our boat and leave. Stanley and Fiddleford? Take the boat out to the water.” He stepped back so that he was out of the water and gently sketched the monster in his journal which, hidden beneath his jacket _and_ lifejacket, wasn’t soaked. Splotches of water did damage some of the back and edges.

Fiddleford shifted his feet before walking over to their broken boat. Stanley wandered over to it and climbed on top. As Stanley pulled out ropes from the anchor and tied it around the boat to make it easier to drag, Stanford documented the creature. Once it was properly drawn and described, he scrawled down a picture of it. “Once we find the author of the tapes, he’ll be so impressed, he’d  _have_  to teach us about the mysterious workings of Gravity Falls.” Stanford grinned and walked around to the boat, which was now in the water. He took a few more pictures before climbing in. “That was a success.”

“We almost died,” Fiddleford pointed out.

“Yeah, dude,” Stanley agreed. “Mystery is cool and all, but can we not get eaten?”

“All in the name of science.” Stanford waved him off. “Besides, none of us were eaten. Let’s just get to the docks.”

 

Their boat limped through the water to the dock. Fiddleford was steering this time. Stanley and Stanford stood at the railing of the boat. The active dock started to slow as they arrived. Janice laughed and punched Dan’s shoulder. He looked back and winced.

Fiddleford stopped the boat, which had taken on way more water by now. The three just managed to get out of it before it sunk completely. Fiddleford hunched his shoulders and didn’t look into the crowd that had gathered. Stanford glanced over his shoulder and then jumped as Gompers ran into his legs. Stanford tried to pick him up, warranting an angry bleat and another hit to the shins. Stanley, grinning his nervous but confident grin, waited as Grauntie Mabel walked through the crowd. She stopped and looked over where the boat was supposed to be and then the three soaked children. “What was the first rule?”

Stanley looked back at his injured brother and scared best friend. “Um… don’t go too far?”

“Where was too far, you think?”

“Scuttbutt Island and then the falls. Both of which are really co–”

“And the second rule?” Grauntie Mabel cut him off.

Stanley lost his smile and looked at his feet. “Return the boat in working order.”

“Return the boat in the same condition it was in when you borrowed it,” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “And since you followed _neither_ of those rules–and I’m pretty sure that’s the start of sunburn you got there Stan and Ford–I think it’s high time we go back to camp.” She looked back and raised her voice. “Okay, kids! You get a few more hours at the lake! I’m leaving Grenda in charge.” She turned and walked to the parking lot by the lake. Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford trailed behind. Gompers followed, but would huff and bleat in agitation any time Stanford tried to touch him.

Grauntie Mabel’s baby blue car peppered with stickers was their ride back to camp. Stanley got Fiddleford to sit between the twins. Gompers sat in the passenger seat. “You know,” she started, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “–Gompers told me you were gone.”

“He did?” Stanford blurted out, staring at his goat with round eyes.

“Yep. I’d been talking to Grenda and Soos when this little fuzzball practically broke my leg running into me! Started bleating and crying and trying to get me to follow him to the lake. Sure enough, you three and that boat was missing.”

“Wow,” Stanford breathed. “I knew it! He’s magic!”

“Well, he’s really something.” _Tick, tick, tick._ “Farmer Sprott has no idea how he keeps getting out.”

The car rumbled to a stop before the main cabin. Fiddleford jumped out of the car as soon as he was given permission to do so. They were summoned into her overly bright and colorful office. “Now!” She sat down in her chair and set her hands on the desk in front of herself. “Do I want to know _why_ you kids were all the way in Scuttlebutt island? Why yes I do.”

Stanford looked to his silent brother and sighed. “We were chasing after the lake monster. The Gobblewonker, as I’ve read.”

“The Gobblewonker,” she stated. “My, my! Of course you’d go looking for a mythical dinosaur swimming with the fish! Fiddleford? You were piloting that boat. I know that my nephews wouldn’t let a boat get beat up like it was. How’d you get that scratch?”

“Th-the Gobblewonker,” Fiddleford muttered. “I tried fightin’ it with my welder spider!” He took off his backpack and set the winged, broken device on her desk. “I managed ta burn its head, but it broken ma machine on the side of the boat.”

Grauntie Mabel looked over it. “Huh! You made this? You _are_ a little genius! But…” She sat back and shook her head. “Look, I don’t know what big bad fish got you, but there’s no thing as magic or monsters. They’re just stories made to spook kids like you.”

“But it’s real!” Stanford burst out and held out his notebook. “See! I got all types of drawings. We went out and found gnomes and monsters!”

“Kids.” Grauntie Mabel sighed and gently pushed Stanford’s notebook back to him. “Look, I’m okay with you kids running around and having fun, even if you skirt around the boundaries _in the day_. I did that when I was a kid, and that’s why I built this place! But that _doesn’t_ mean you two can break the rules like this.”

The trio got a very, very short speech over the rules and why they were set in place. Then they were shooed off to their cabin to wash off and change into cleaner clothes. As soon as they stepped foot outside, Grauntie Mabel had a few buckets in her hands.

By the time the other campers got back, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford had cleaned out the entire front area, washed out their cabin, and the kitchen. After dinner, they replaced Maria in washing off the dishes.

That night, they got plenty of time to _“relax”_ as the three of them stayed in their cabin instead of joining everyone for the campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, mainly because I incorporated the Gobblewonker in it! It seems that the boys got their last warning and now get to do some real work.
> 
> Also, Gompers got himself a personality. Haha

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately... I'm going to have to limit the schedule. My primary focus is on"Where the Flowers Grow," and Undertale fan-novel set in Underfell. Sorry! So, for now, instead of a Monday/Wednesday/Friday schedule, it's just Tuesdays.


End file.
